Quintumply

I would just like to take a moment to congratulate you all for reading this.

Congratulations.

Party poppers.

Now, usually when I type a new post for my blog, I have some idea of what I want to do beforehand.  Not in this case.  Or in this backpack, or this glove box.  For you see, I currently have absolutely no inspiration and am winging it like the pigeon I am.  Let’s see what happens.  Are you excited?  Personally, I’ve never been more excited in my life, though whether this is a lie or not is undetermined, for I cannot remember every time I’ve been excited in my life ever.  That’d be impressive, and I am, generally speaking, an unimpressive person.

Well, hello again.  Welcome to the paragraph under the one above.  We have macadamia nuts and baskets of cherries.  They are a complimentary supplement to your experience here today.  On your left is a lavatory, if needs be, and on your right is the conservatory.  Now, if you will follow me, I will take you there.  Fear not, for I shall guide your feet.

The percentage of people likely to choose Coca Cola over Pepsi is 81%.  This statistic has been made up, although I like to think it is fairly accurate.  To oppose this, blind taste tests have proven that more people prefer the taste of Pepsi.  Strangely, the same people who took this test were asked if they preferred Coca Cola or Pepsi, and the result matched that of the above statistic.  The British public is a bizarre quantity, there’s no denying.

But what does this have to do with conservatories, you ask me, a look of sheer puzzlement spread unnervingly smoothly across your collective face?  The answer to this question can be found on page sixty two of your text books.  I urge you to read it in your own time, for the answer is simply exhausting to read aloud.  A word of caution; when you do read it, please have some green tea at the ready, for it eases the pain.  How and why does it do so, you ask, a curious look not indifferent to the puzzled look you displayed earlier beaming from your cheeks?  Page eighty five, my dears.  Bring a flask.

A fisherman once asked of me, “Quintumply, catch a fish”.  I was unsure of how to respond.  My instinctive reply would have been something like, “Good sir, surely the act of catching a fish is an area in which you excel and, indeed, enjoy enough to repeatedly repeat on a daily basis as part of your job description?” but I was certain that he would take that kind of questioning in the wrong way.  I felt this way due to the fishing line wrapped tightly around my neck, and thought it to be inappropriate to challenge him in such a way.  Instead, I simply said, “Ok,” and caught a small mackerel.  This is the end of this particular unexplained and disjointed scenario.

Can you believe that this is a completely spontaneous blog post, as opposed to an almost completely spontaneous blog post?  I can.  I base my beliefs on facts, and the fact is that I am typing this with no prior intention or knowledge of this happening.  Perhaps it is time for me to stop.  The lights have gone red, after all.

WordPress has just gotten in contact with me, and they are appalled at my lack of organisation.  They wish for me to commence stopping this post before it becomes an immovable stain on the XXL sized t-shirt of blogging.

Goodbye.