Ole Xym appears to be emitting a miasma of misery that causeth people to conclude that the great fat fool is in some form of abject gloom, when in reality he's as happy as happy can be!
Perhaps this unwarranted perception if the reason of the new sport of Xym Avoidance!
After the Here-Comes-Xym-Let's-Sidle-Off palava at Hades, I'm now subjected to the Phew-He's-Going-Shit-He's-Not-Let's-Go-Instead scenario at the WhatACunt!
I pops upstairs to see what dupious delight is presented in Paradise Shitty when personage A comes up and states that A & B are leaving. So I returns to say me farewells to B.
C, D & E greet me with waveature, clearly under the impression I'm the one being sent home with no tea! I decides to stay, then suddenly C, D & E suddenly decide to leave! Meanwhile, B tells me I should go off and play with my other friends who happen to be present.
Dial Emma!
For these be the self same friends of the Here-Comes-Xym-Let's-Sidle-Off persuasion!
Oh, what to do!
Sidle off home into a life of hermittery and agrophobia (fear of getting into a fight, ie a bit of aggro).
I should never have stormed Mount Olympus and bewailed by lot unto the Moiræ. The Moiræ being the three fates, although I only know of one, that one being Moira Stewart, who likes to dress up in reptilian space monster outfits.
Gronda! Gronda!
