@alfiejbaker Profile picture

Alfie

@alfiejbaker

Lazy Susanist, mental gymnast, (former) Alibaba shareholder. Aspiring United States Postmaster General.

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Nasally navel-gazer with the laser sharp focus. Says “I’m a left-wing firebrand!” with the fluidity of a hoodwink and a barbarism that began at home. I’m a left-wing firebrand. The media don’t like me. I’m a firebrand. I’m hard-left.


Alfie Reposted

Chipper. Out from under and up above the hot heavy iron of life. Light as hoover dust. Giddy as Skegness painting. Pitter patter, little cold slaps in the face from the sky, affectionate! Cut knot, swaying etiolation, joy sponge.


Just a smidgen, yes, that’s enough, no! Stop. Stop. OK, you’ve overdone it. What am I to do? I’m covered in venison. Venison, everywhere; smudges of it. What is there to be done? I think of Bambi, animated. The guts and blood of Bambi, dappled all over my corporeal being…


Alfie Reposted

- Ah, you see, instead of doing things badly, I would do things well. - What would you do about the broken things? - Ah, well, instead of broken things we should have things that work. - Are you going to spend any money on them? - Well, no.


Nothing in the Uniparty tete-a-tete about traffic wardens (I want more) or peat bogs (I want more). Blair vs Blair without the arousal. #Twocheeksofthesamebackside


You! flaccid phlegmwad, flimsy little flaxseed, sanguine little sap sucker, prickly little gorse bush. Flowers… wilted betwixt your bronzing twigs. Why are you bullying me? Because I’m small. I’m a microbully. And it would be nice to feel big, for once.


He was out, waddling through the temperates, swallowing sanguisorba, imagining himself as a Sofonisba Anguissola painting, hands on gonads, sweat bead on jawbone, hopscotching over hot griddle, skin of his teeth thread-dangling, yoinked by a rat, incomplete, completed by a bee.


Don’t ask me. I’m not real, I’m only a myth; just an echo. If a thing were a thing then I’d be best described as, at best, a carapace. At worst, with regards to everything, I’m a quiver, somewhere tepid, vaguely ten thousand annum thereafter.


A piece of string! Thank you, sweetness. Something delectable…. I will munch on it until … ah, no, erm….. how long is it, exactly, my old bombardier? A calloused throat laboured; lamenting from a sandpaper voicebox: ‘Where did the naughty little flea go?’. ……nobody know.


And where did that lilt lead to? No place, it was a perpetual undulate. I was just happy to be there; sonically, bobbing, for the ride.


Ump. Noxious pheromone dangling like a raindrop. I’ve got the- sippy cups at the lips of masses. Excuse mwah have you got the- sand dune melting like a lolly. Everybody’s got the ump. Cut through it with lime knife! And the juice, will foolproof your cooking………………………….


Alfie Reposted

ideal male living space (exterior)

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Mswati III has taken his capacity for continuous iteroparity very seriously.


Lamium: agrestal rife. Zygomorphous flowers. Ruderal species; colonisers not competitors. Decussate phyllotaxy. Philodendron splayed on a countertop. The king of Swaziland has 15 wives and 45 children, but has he ever eaten the downy, green-purple leaves of a red deadnettle?


Alfie Reposted

In case I have not yet said this to you, I shall say it now: you are sweet and good. Franz Kafka, 1920.


Alfie Reposted

he looks like he's about to float towards the scent of a freshly baked pie

perfect posture

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Feels good to be walking against a strong breeze listening to Jimi Hendrix.


Alfie Reposted

I was in the south of France in 1980 at a place called Argelles sur Mer. It was 120⁰ so hot I had to put a parasol over my beer whilst I sunbathed. Get a grip


Grey skies over Armathwaite.


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