Call me Franz. Some years ago, having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me at home I thought I would tour about a little and see the filthy part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever…it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking peoples hats off - then, I account it high time to get on the road as soon as I can. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the van. Tonight is at the Prince Albert, in Brighton.
Posted on: Fri, 22 Nov 2013 10:23:04 +0000