It's like with his puns, I keep telling him...

Can you put your books down there a bit? So I can sit on here... cool. You should get like a dictaphone, you mean? Later you could go through it. In years people would read it. Go down in the ages as rambling incoherent rapes. Immediately so. Especially with the post-modern ideas we've got going on. Once you've broken the fourth wall, what's left to break except your own? Septum? Have you seen my plectrum? Anth's returned the text about his weed being sh*t. He starts this text with an "A" instead of an "I" 'cause he's a chav and referring to himself. Do you want to follow it because I can't be arsed? I'm saying "sound, save us a bag of blues for tomorrow on our comedown." A bit of my brain went "yeah, that did happen". Darren can't see anything really; his brain's just tricking himself because he got new glasses. This is a special home built just for you. I'd be off my trolley-jack schiznitch. You got great tits. Just sent one back saying "sound". Try and spell "sound" wrong. I tried to p*ss myself and it's not possible, you know what I mean: It's an involuntary mechanism I've got in me? I was this far away from putting a series of kisses afterwards. You know what I mean? I thought you wanted to write down... 'cause you were onto some little song thing there. Come on Rick, I've got no legs, erm.