God, hes left as on aur oun.

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A thought.

Perhaps studying the manner in which sites like this one utterly fail to be convincing will help us to develop a better Turing test.

(Go. Look. See if you see what I mean. Then read this, and see if we’re right.)

PS: Don’t give her your email, whatever you do.

—Filed 8049 days ago to Poprocks.

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• An attempt at sketching in prose what goes through my mind when Robyn Hitchcock begins to ramble in that engagingly undrunken monotone about the Isle of Wight before starting to contort a guitar in his own unmistakable, beautifully ugly idiom.