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When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a Valentine.
Birthday greetings bottle of wine.
If I'd been out till quarter to three.
Would you lock the door.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When i'm sixty-four.
You'll be older too,
And if I say the word,
I could stay with you.
I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights ha ve gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday morning go for a ride,
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four.
Every summer we can rent a cottage,
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera Chuck

This is hardly "compressing" the dumb shit...

Odeyami was tired. He laid awake though, and thought about the way it was. He let his mind drift over the small things, like twine, or misspellings. He thought very hard about what kind of dinner to prepare himself. So hard that it made him cry.

The next morning odeyami was putting on his shoes and listening to Spandau Ballet. The music was like a pregnant women to him. As he laced up his leathery boots he wished he was a morbid fascination. That thought always made him crap, and crap hard. Crap.

Somwhere in the town there was a potato farm