If you ever see a little black bag hanging from a tree do not pick it. That fruit is not of the fruitbowl, my friend.
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If you ever see a little black bag hanging from a tree do not pick it. That fruit is not of the fruitbowl, my friend.
WAKING at four in the morning in a puddle of my own vomit following a late and convivial evening with theologian friends, I pick up my battered mitre.
This is a Mash Premium article, exclusively for subscribers. Sign up for Mash Premium to get ad-free browsing and bonus content.
Mash Premium gives you extra content and ad-free browsing. Subscribe to view this article.
WAKING at four in the morning in a puddle of my own vomit following a late and convivial evening with theologian friends, I pick up my battered mitre.
