It's only words

Ah, finally, am at the "business end of a mullet" after days of marking. The process could kill a clown's sense of humour. A sense of humour the essential ingredient. Without it we would curl up 'n' die. Which, incidentally, is the apt name of a hairdressing salon in North Sydney. So many found lines to be picked up and filed (a lot of them, I confess, from student papers.) "Polonius hoovering behind the arras." "Like the mullet says." "The sculpture is clad in a fur suit." And my all-time fave: "Depression comes hand in hand with syphilis." I'm sure it does.

(And aren't we always telling people to SAY what they mean and be direct?)

No lies, no sugar-coating.

Say it, sister (as she/you/I avoid the novel.)