I wouldn't sail this ship if I were you
Surrey scone bombs; dialogue; giant lasers flicking across the world’s blissful fields so that giant kittens may chase them; clustering-together-and-having-an-awkward-hug bombing; typography snipers who wear their kerning tight around their waists; rifles that are actually trifles that have had a bit nibbled off the top; magic rainbow peace unicorns; lovercraft taking off from the carriers of the world to dispense sweet music in the night; the giant nuclear arses of the the world’s superpowers, harnessing the power of the atom to make glowing bottoms; the circus cannon; cupid’s dart, arrow, bolt and pushpin; the mild tut; the mighty broadbutterknife drawn gleaming from its sheath at the dawn of the new sandwich; the fist (uncurled); the ploughshare; the bayonet fairy light fitting; the human brain; the tank (fish); the really big electric guitar with lots of twiddly bits on it; the confetti landmine; seasick sea dog yarnbombing in cosy basements, the tales slipping loose from time to time to trip and haul in passers-by; the weaponized version of ‘oh sod it, let’s go home for a beer’.
