a new day lasts as long as the old one

if you think you’ve been here before, you’re right, said sponge, but it won’t help. the end of the platform is just its beginning. you’ll take it from there; you’ll move on.
the setting of the train station’s shopping mall provides an impressive backdrop for these words. it was an ordinary shopping mall. shops and drunks and security staff. time drawn to thin lines, ringing in the breath of the passer-by. lashings, beatings, joy and sadness. bitterness.
bitterness adds negativity to the setting, said breadroll, though people ought to be positive. about things and stuff.

not quite so old and witty

o the fun we had, said sponge, that was really fun. we were different then. less grubby. more snappy celery. now we know the right queue from the wrong, as they say. i have never heard anyone saying that but it is important to remember to choose the right queue, one for hopeful things, worthy the disappointment. though it is hard to spot them, requires practice, which one doesn’t get from waiting in the wrong one. but we are hopeful.
a hungry lady wants a bite of me, said breadroll.
she should queue for bread, said sponge. where is an angry mob when you need it.

plain old british

feck off. piss off. lead your outlets to propel you further. good british ways of telling some-one to farworse.
be it a truck or a trunk or a drunk, it’ll be the same. as in same. said sponge.
but having had a british meal, right in the traditional manner, he felt somewhat honoured. but still missed the shop. and not being famous.

oldest trick in the magazine

can we skip this now, said sponge. i know we did this before and i know that it is the oldest trick in the booklet but it is not as old if you consider that we just recently came up with it.
and if you call it auld trick you’ll have the benefit of tradition and nostalgia. breadroll had said that.

why elderly men wearing baseball caps sometimes have strong body odour

if there is one thing i love to do than it’ll be to reek like a rookie. there is nothing like it. the reasoning about reeking and rank and retirement makes the odour turn sour, the very substance that on the rookie’s mildly bulging body loiters and lingers as the bad news -for some- that it is, that substance or subs as insiders or ins as they call themselves usually call it that later will turn out to be the undercoat of your presence, that smell of butter gone sour and vapourising beer.
sponge was in a position to achieve this state and in that state he triumphantly glazed over his collegues. what a waste of words as none and not one were listening. he will have to repeat this shit.

to pick up an old idea

po et ry.
pooo entries.
pope’s entry.
pop try.
that’s quite enough, herr brekst, said sponge, quite sufficient as well.
do you think so, said herr brekst.
positive, said sponge, everyone’s left; except me. and you.
herr brekst took a cup. do you want tea, he said. sponge did not want tea. i could make coffee. however, sponge did not want coffee either.
the morning had a hard time taking off.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.