One day to go before I start my prison sentence, and it is messing with my head. Last night in my dream I shared a cell with Rudi Giuliani, he made me his bitch and I woke up with a sore bottom and pregnant, in my dream, not real life.
But waking up in real life was almost as bad. I looked at the wanted posters of the inmates I’ll be doing my time with and overnight, one of them, no names mentioned but he wears orange overalls, has developed lovey dovey Bambi eyes that follow me around the room constantly. I now worry that the threat of full cavity searches is why he turned to a life of crime in the first place. Alas.
I’m thinking about hiring in some muscle to protect my bottom’s virtue. So far Stu ‘Mullinski’ Chalmers is the only one who has applied for the job. (For those of you who went to Vainona, Prince Edward, Churchill or any school other than Allan Wilson, a ‘Mullinski’ is defined as someone willing to do prison time in exchange for money.) But I worry that Stu will ride to prison on his bicycle and will be late.
So please come down to the Tin Roof tomorrow from 12.00 on to bail me and Stu out of prison, or you can pay into one of the accounts listed below. All the proceeds will go to the pensioners, so please be generous.
Yours in orange and with bottom tightly clenched – Eric Chicken Legs de Jong