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So I tried it, right? This lass—fit, mind—starts with me shoulders, all slow and teasing. I’m chuffed, like Sadness going, “Ohh, I might cry, this is lush.” Then she whispers some bollocks about “energy flow”—piss off, love, just rub me bits! Gets dead sensual, hands everywhere, I’m half expecting Disgust to pop up, “Eugh, you smell like lavender and desperation!” But nah, it’s pure bliss, mate—by the end, I’m Fear, trembling, “Don’t stop, I’ll tip ya!”

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Later, I decide to hit up the Stratford Farmers’ Market on Miranda St. I’m hoping for some fresh produce to inspire my next piece. I’m wandering around, and I bump into this old mate of mine, Dave. We start chatting, and he’s telling me about his new sheep farm. I’m like, “Dude, you’re living the dream!” But then he mentions he lost a sheep. I’m like, “How do you lose a sheep?” He shrugs, and I can’t help but laugh.

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