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Boff! Pow! Zowie!

Batgirl, Batgirl, Batgirl.
What are you doing?!
Seriously, just look at yourself. Must you insist on sullying your good name by riding around on some motorcycle whos front fairing appears to have been formed by squeezing mashed potatos out of a pastry bag?

Are those…? Wait a minute! Are those ruffles?
D…d… do I see fringe on your seat?!
Oy vey. I think I need to sit down.

Bush Fire Warning Level is at Code Red for Extreme Danger. That precariously placed magnifying glass is bad news, sister. You’ve been warned.

Imagine Me & You and You & Me…

As usual, I was flipping thru my picture archive looking for something to strike my fancy. There it is, todays picture the beautiful Royal Enfield Bullet. Delightful. If I dare say, charming.

[cue harps for daydream sequence]

I can see me with my pink, silk scarf flowing, tootling down the road under a cloudless, blue sky. Heart shaped puffs of exhaust leave a perfumed trail in my wake. The trees gently wave to me as I putt-putt along.

‘Why, hello there, Miss Fuzzy. Fine day we’re having.’

A fine day it is indeed, Mr. Hemlock. All is right with the world when you’re piloting such a delightful machine. Oh Bullet, you are the consummate gentleman.

Well, except for that whole chauvinistic advertising literature thing…