'Zine has been read in my family for five generations. Back in those days, 'Zine was delievered to your home by carrier pidgeon. Poet's corner was full of angsty haikus by Wilfred Owen. Even an up and coming German politician called Adolf, got in print with letters such as; "My top ten greatest fluffy creatures, ever" and "Five fun things to do to the Jewish".
My great-grandfather would run home from the pit each evening to read 'zine. He was that excited, bless him, he used to leave his canaries at the coal pits. Still, they'd been dead for three years anyway, so he guessed it didn't matter that much.
Poor bloke was killed two days later when he sparked up a woodbine down a mine shaft. Oh, how we laughed.
In conclusion, I am better than you. That much better in fact, I shall stick out my tongue, press my thumb against my nose, and wiggle my fingers like a crazy mofo on a psychadelic caffeine flash back.
Reading 'zine for a year indeed
I've been writing to teletext since I was in the scrotum. Hang your head in shame, young Jedi.