21/03/2026
THE BUGGERS – COOK LOVE.
A child asking for love is a saint in bo***ge. Cook love. Melt it down into a golden syrup, a big yellow nerve running down the stomach. Remember the soft first time: gold on gold. Diesels pounding out honey. Giant closed eyes. Chiselled lips pursed into thin leaf gold. Away with blankness! Yes, some love rusts, a yellow-backed copy of hindsight. It wasn't love. It had never been love.
