(I shall be 40 on the 23rd of this month. On the same night Rufus Wainwright is playing in Bristol. I found out today that the tickets are sold out. Which inspired this post….)
Dear God,
I don’t know who You are. I don’t know what You want. If You are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don’t have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like You. If You get me tickets for the Rufus gig in Bristol on the 23rd, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for You, I will not pursue You. But if You don’t, I will look for You, I will find You, and I will fucking kill You.