(no subject)
It's such a relief being dead sometimes. I was down to Heptonstall today to visit dear Sylvia's grave, and I spied a bevvy of those bloody infernal boisterous man-hating femininazis. I always think they are boys at first, what with the buzzcuts, birkenstocks and flannel (and yes, dear reader, they do wear flannel in Britain), until I see them taking their chisels to my last name on Sylvia's headstone. I instinctively ducked and began to sprint away- until I recalled that lucky super mutant power of ghostness: Invisibility!