w h smith,
you used to be a bookshop.
now you’re a crapshop
Today was much the same. I ache like a body-armoured Phil Spector drive-by victim.I ventured out to do some shopping, and found, to my delight, a book of blank watercolour paper postcards in WH Smith. Now, I shall do a Gilbert & George and make some disposable art to post to people. If I become a famous artist, writer or serial killer, my friends can put them on e-bay and buy a house with the proceeds.
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