So I got my gold eyeshadow, baby blue bobby sox, cold sore concealer - why be in it? For the eggplant imac-matching aubergine cell phone. 'Do you have a girlfriend? can I have your number...' You'll have it branded on your wrist, concentration style, concentrating on how good I'm looking with my mouth full of s-club-7, concentrating on not coming too fast. You wanna lose your $15 dollar commission on a three-day stubble? Then slow it down. Drugs well spent. Come on pal, you're only 40. Since when did moustaches look good on anybody over 20 and uh when did road works fashion hit my scene? Only roads in here's the one to the loos for a cheap line of baking soda. Fuck the strobe! Buddy you look totally like you play rock music. Keep those trainers in the dark.

Rachel Hunter's calling, better finish up. Wipe you? I ain't even gonna wipe me. What is it with Rachel calling for cheap speed? That solo mother from G.I. pashing up the black-magic crew... Fuck the red socks, that kiwi slapper's going for the red face in New Idea. Here's a new idea Rachel, you ain't 16 and fellating ice cream cones in red convertibles anymore, so stop smirking like you're the one bringing Ricky Martin around. 40 fucking 000 tickets in three hours, and every one a frigid misdemeanour. Americas cup, fucking black magic? Only if you're hunting David Tua leotard girl. Stick to the real thing and like uh, move along people there's nothing to see.

See Davey Tua's bringing it all to little ol' Auckland, pinching the holy grail title from devils like Don King, and he's totally doing it with like a bucket of KFC and a cinderella Samoan complex. As pure as the man on the port. Not like New Zealand's second ecstasy death - should just leave that stuff to the poets, pornographers and thiefs. Like, that silly boy was a surfer or some sporty thing. I mean what's a hick ol' hippy like that doing at an Auckland rave. Fucking stick to the gathering and fire juggling little man. Up here we only live on froot loops and press passes.

Speaking on press, only press True Bliss are getting now is by the flesh of any bartender who still recognises them. Thought that was illegal. Everyone knew it'd happen when those Telly-Tubby casting couches turned 18. I mean in this town you gotta stay down and stay under. Like what self-respecting red-bull sales rep'd get off on rusty pussy? Rusty nails you lot, like why am I even talking to you..

PS. Hard candy's not a drug anymore, its only my pre-weekend make-up so if you can't stand the heat then uh, don't leave such a big tip.

Personal disclaimer: Daniel Sterling Mancini: High School drop-out, Art School drop-out, University drop-out, is was and never will be prince. Apologies to the creator, my family and of course all artists concerned.

Sagittarius: year of the tiger:
Sag (hang loosely, droop)
I (me)
Tar (stained or sullied)
I (me again)
Us (form of we)