Stefan Kubiczyn

One night, in late November, Stefan had a terrible dream. It happened like this:

"I am in the middle of a city, where all the faces are made out of Quaker's Snack-a-Jacks and Strongbow labels, held together with gruyere. This may sound amusing to you, but to me it was extremely distressing, especially in light of my morning, where I woke up in my cupboard (where I am locked at night with only wood shavings to eat) to see a big fuckin’ dog coming towards me, only to find that it wasn't a dog, it wasn't a dog, and when it got closer, it wasn't a dog, it was a fuckin’ DONKEY. But I digress, where was I? Oh, yeah – in the city. Well, I found after much madness that my only refuge was to be found in some RESTAURANT, with candles on the tables and red-and-white checked tablecloths. The cutlery was beautiful. So, yes. I ordered a meal of neaps and tatties, as was the wont of the time, and a peculiar looking man, with 8 wheels and a beautiful tie with a pretty design on it and an immaculate suit jacket and a big silver platter. Secretly, in my heart of hearts, I knew that I had found my God."

So it was ok in the end, kids.

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