The perp always gets it in the end, you know…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s hippopotamus is the one with two full trolleys completely blocking the cookery aisle in the supermarket.

Humans are just funny like that; for some reason they really love stuff dealing with awful crime, and murder, and stuff. They read books about such things and like to watch films and TV shows about it – ranging from Agatha Christy, with nice, but troubled people and minimal gore, to the charming Hannibal Lecter, and his attractive unpleasantness – me, I blame Anthony Hopkins for all that!
I suppose it all boils down to people’s inbuilt fascination with good and bad. When people do their badness they should, of course, be found out, and then suitably punished for their crimes.
Come one let’s watch some convicted miscreants, some ‘perps’ (perpetrators) be punished, oh, look at them frown and squirm, and see how they try to cover their previously smirking faces! It’s all legal though, it’s allowed – come on, get your orange overalls, and your handcuffs on – you, you filthy mean brute! You’ll be spending the rest of your miserable life in clink – er, jail, gaol, lock up, lockdown, the pen, pokey, the slammer, the big house…
Yes, but I only watch those real-life detective TV shows so I can jot down some of the jargon and the voice-over for posts like this one – I see it as a kind of ‘found poetry’ – please, dear reader – do read it as such:

A gated paradise – a disturbing discovery – it was like a punch in the gut! – the happy little community – raise a family – the American dream – an undercover covert investigation – a local hot-head? – just the whisky talking – evil lurking – all of his guns were kept in there – many different emotions all at once – it was a pretty good hunch on the part of the officer – closing in on the weapon – but weeks turned to months – at the laundromat – a gift of a similar pistol – and he takes it to the grave with him – in the first degree – some time the night before – it was a horribly graphic scene – in a church parking lot – the scene speaks volumes – life without parole – no explanation was forthcoming…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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