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The Lost continent of

You've found a bug on my site!

Little fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

William Blake, 'The Fly' (1795)

The Library

Referencing you since 1995

This section of the website consists of mostly stuff that I did not do, but which I think is great and deserves publishing.

You may not agree, but so it goes...

Godman
What sort of philosophical pickles would God get into if he were a spandex-wearing super hero?
Shakespeare
The compleat works, herein.
Spacemoose
Low-brow humour with touches of scatolagical genius. Ex-university magazine comic, accidentally backed-up and hosted by me.
Translations
A couple of Honduran short stories translated from Spanish into English by me.
A book in chains