We find ourselves subject to small and useless little Hitlers. They stand at doors and trap us there, their feet swelled up with blisters.

However shite their jobs must seem there’s one thing to remember, don’t call them mate or pet or luv, don’t pigeon hole their gender.

These stranger times we’re ploughing through has crippled all the pronouns. But what the fuck has happened when mistakes will get you sent down?

Hyperbole has never been so negatively taken, but wonder not as I have seen a sausage think it’s bacon.

So fucked if I know how to act when men think they are women, they stare at me as though IM weird. Now isn’t THAT inhuman?

My rant is done, I’ll sit and wait for this thing to be published. So read away and think of me when strange folks want me punished.

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The author

Adam Adamson still is an awesome shag... Well he is. Honest. But whatever, he has always loved to write, even before he could write. Its been a passion of his since he realised that others would read his stuff and get a little emotional. That gripped him really. Was it good or was it crap? Anyhoo! Enjoy reading what i’ve scribbled and who knows… one day it might make sense.

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