What the hell does Miss Missouri Martin from Adelaide have to do with the our old mate Keithy and the nefarious story about how he helped a clutch 0f Chinese Chinese Capitalist Communists confuse the crap out of anyone who once believed that never the twain should meet, Chinese or not?
The company extract above is simply Archie pouring water on Miss Missouri Martin’s wheel, and if you don’t have the slightest f*cking clue what Mad Archie is on about then hey, who the hell could blame you?
But if I want to send Miss Missouri Martin a cryptic note then that’s my business, and heck, this is my bloody website, and unlike some Murdoch Maulers on slave-age wages, people actually come along personally to read it. It’s probably because they know I’m a member of the journalist’s union, and respect both my writing and my efforts to make sure that wordsmith’s earn a decent wage.
But whatever the reason that the punters flock to my site, and some bum journo’s lift my lovely word and pretend that they are their own, the fact is that the decision to publish whatever I wish to write is the Sprogs, and the Sprogs alone, and if just once in a while I strike out and tell the cheeky little tacker that I will do whatever the hell I like, well that’s simply her business and mine.
And if you don’t like it, then Miss Missouri Marin may just come along and put the slug on you too.