~ Saturday, February 02, 2002
Travelling abroad in a stinking foreign land?
Worried about the natives getting their sweaty paws on your hard-earned property?
Adrift in a culture you barely understand yet instinctively fear?
Then you need Packfortress (TM), a revoluntionary new property protection system. Keep THEIR hands off YOUR kit.
Eight reels of foldwaway barbed wire and a handy 12kV battery will render your rucksack/suitcase/spouse invulnerable.
Remember: They're all wogs and you can't trust them an inch.
Trailbuggers - Cheap Holidays in Other People's Misery.
I do not know my name. I cannot remember being given one. On my occasional meetings with others, they avoid this absence as they avoid the ruin of my right eye. Their only concerns are for the birds' eggs I bring from the hills. They may have names for me but none they say to my face. In my turn I care not for their names or their stories, only the cloth they bring to trade. I suppose I could give a name to myself. I have named the trees and rivers for three days' walk. But names are only for tohers to fix and mark. Men's words are like dog piss in this respect. Without a name, I am like the darkness under the hills. A place of refuge and peril. I am myself, alone.