Published on May 21st, 2018 | by Boris
Dear George, How good was that! Fucken smashed ya! Come up on you like a bull full piss and hormones and smashed ya all the way to fuck and back again. Townsville near shit itself, I... Read More →
Published on May 20th, 2018 | by Boris
Dear Gigi, What is wrong with these stupid Frenchians? Why are they all running around with their culottes around their ankles and their macrons in their hands? You would think they have something to celebrate. But... Read More →
Published on May 18th, 2018 | by Boris
PHOTOGRAPHY BY NICK EDARDS/HALF LIGHT PHOTOGRAPHIC Sometimes the planets align. And sometimes, they align in my garage, which makes me suspicious and tetchy. So on this day there were two Bobbers aligned planet-like behind the roller... Read More →
Published on May 17th, 2018 | by Boris
How important are your eyes? It’s a no-brainer of an answer, huh? Without your eyes, your life will be very different to what it is right now. It really doesn’t bear thinking about. Without your eyes,... Read More →
Published on May 10th, 2018 | by Boris
Dear George, I cannot squat here anymore. My pelvis has turned into bone-paste and all the veins in my legs have collapsed like the Venezuelan economy. The crew and I have been kneeling here so long... Read More →
Published on May 7th, 2018 | by Boris
Dear George, I am drinking a glass that has been filled with the stale piss of Andalusian rats, the pus squeezed from a cankerous sore, and despair. Mainly despair. So much despair… It is you who... Read More →
Published on May 4th, 2018 | by Boris
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. Samuel Taylor Coleridge The caverns were not measureless, there was... Read More →
Published on May 2nd, 2018 | by Boris
Bob Seger’s whimsical Fire Lake spoke to me the day I heard it in 1981, and it speaks to me today in 2018. Thirty seven years have rolled under many different sets of wheels. Much... Read More →
Published on May 2nd, 2018 | by Boris
Dear George, Mate, you need to calm the fuck down and stop being a dead-set five-arseholed prick. Them sad Spango cunts you pay money to hang around your bean-bag-filled bus keep texting me. “Apologise to George,... Read More →
Published on April 24th, 2018 | by Boris
Dear Gigi, OK, now I am ready to race after that stupid and dangerous practice on Sunday. How many of those putas cheated! The filthy animals. They have no honour! Their mothers make the gargling mouth-sex... Read More →
