Here’s a short sample of the nonsense.

Horace was reminded of an old gag, all of his gags were old. Hey, where you bin where you wheelie bin? He was wheeling his about his garden. It was reasonably green. These things together, although natural, flowed into one’s senses like a slow-moving tide. The visual was rather calming, the flight of nature’s stained glass windows on wings was truly magnificent, while the odour, oddly tasteful. Horace had tried to update a few things in his life, the house, the garden, the car and his place of work. Despite success in the first three, his place of work had gone to shit. The major upheaval was apparently over, the resulting smashed crockery status unable to be restored. It will now try to limp on, trying to cope. It won’t .. more