Being a man of almost limitless faculty and glorious appearance, Kinky John's day's were often awash with inspirational moments. After yet another one of these had penetrated his already enriched day, John decided he could actually help the world around him. All he had to do was spread himself around a little. Or, a little more than usual. He walked out into the fine streets to show these people a little of his compare magic.

"Hello one and all. I'm Kinky John Fowler. Controversial compare and charismatic dynamo. I bring electricity and excitement to any occasion. Women melt in my arms and audiences are like ginger, in my hands..."

A glazed look took over his face as he became unavoidably aware of everyone's confused expression.

"...Puty!"

With the rare polish of a proven professional, John moved seamlessly on.

"Anyway, I've come here to help lighten the load. I will impart some of my wisdoms onto you in the coming days. You can have a happier life, with more freedom, movement and less restriction. Particularly in the jocular regions. 

Today's lesson is a simple one, that came to me with clarity, through the nose. You see my neighbour, she's a funny old bird. I've never tampered with her but she's a good old girl. Anyway, she decided to make some shit with apples. A tart or a crumble or a cake or I don't know what. Apples! First I know about it, she's boiling vinegar in a pan. Man, the stench of it! It near made my eyes bleed. Inside of my nose has been nearly destroyed by it. Burning and ripping like having your head over ammonia. Jesus mother and the holy rebellion!

Anyway, advice of the day. Never, under any circumstances, no matter what some fucked-up recipe may tell you, should you ever boil vinegar!"

He looked around the seemingly underwhelmed crowd and felt he needed to impress upon them, the importance if this point.

"JUST DON'T DO IT, MAN!"

Content he now had the attention his boiled point required, he said goodbye.

"I've been Kinky John Fowler and I'll be back occasionally, to share something incredibly helpful with you. If I'm not here, you can usually find me dancing and romancing in one dance hall or another.

Stay sexy people!"

DLZ had joined the crowd gathering around a rather dashing fellow standing on a soapbox. He listened to the advice being given by Kinky John and couldn't help but get excited to hear more. 

"Never boil vinegar? DLZ paused to ponder this revelation before starting to clap and whistle "What a revelation!" 

"I know my man. I'll be here semi-regular, with all kinds of mind blowing shit."

The TexanFowl 'is gahdayng self was walkin'n struttin' eez'ol danglin' dandiest of non dapper-dandy candies. The saltiest of nuts to have ever smacked their own ass cheeks in broad daylight. In his age he need not worry about sittin' on them, for he was a young mafioso fresh in the face. The babyface full nelson't a manz De La purse, with the ol' starboard claw that hammered the asses of those too slow. The heels and toes continued down the thorough fare until wham! BAM! 

The face of an angel talkin' about cookin' in the street. How did this guy get all this ancient wisdom? Did he possess some type of library of knowledge in an organic computer or somethin'? The fuck is a pine eel and are there pine elfs? Do gnome's have sayin's? Are souper say'yinZz kings of klang or the swang? But did they also bang when they swung on their course? Do hips thrust or throttle? Who's got whos milk bottle in a swaddle of SWAT? The bambino'st of gambinos? Oh piss oh fluff a duck. 

God damn was TheCatch45 flustered in the aura of such a spicy creature. He was just overSkumm'ead wit' o'dea ol'dee joyous occasion. He grabbed his Meemaw's newest creation, the aerosol sensation let out a mighty fine spray. The wall behind the angel disquised as a sexy beast caught the paint of the one true God of "Do you understand?!?!?!?" 

what this guy said

Oh what a message to support! And support it TheCatch45 did, with a political statement of takin' back the space claimed by the "public". The public of who? Not my people god dammit, we wouldn't send visual attacks that cause certain types of stimulation. Signals of desensitization echo on through the cacophony of the UniversalSymphonyy. Phonetically charged and synonymous with no other sound around this or any other dumb town. 

One love owns 2 guns but has 3 legs, Michael Fiddlayy drives off. The pig no longer felt safe in the blanket of this madden't lad just wanderin' through the street anymore. 

John walks back to the coal face of public appearance. As his magnetic presence entered the public domain, the crowd were understandably attentive. Those glasses, that hair, the jacket. The whole look was formidable. 

"Alright people. It's been a little while longer than expected but have no fear, Kinky John is back to give you some more helpful advice for a more efficient life. 

There were a couple of things I considered sharing with you this time. Initially I had an incident in my home just the other day. As I passed the landing, I caught sight of my reflection in the window at the top of the stairs. For a moment the translucent image appeared to be be divine. As if I was my own guardian angel, looking down from the sky outside, just saying "Well done kid, you're everything you could be". I was so distracted by the perfection of the moment that I lost my balance and fell down the stairs. The resulting back injury and blood loss was enough to make sure of one thing... If you suddenly become aware of your own divine purpose, do it downstairs! Preferable sitting down.

Anyway, I considered this level of experience may not apply to most so my advice today is much more down to earth. It's a solution to every hangover you will ever have. It's Kinky John's magic breakfast, I call it The Sleeper. You're going to need yourself a grill and a pan or two. Some fire and a bit of pepper.

• 8 sausages, best you can find. grill them attentively, turning regularly. Care for them like they are precious babies. They are the bedrock of this whole thing.
• Get yourself a can of beans, dump the lot in a pan and grind it a shitload of pepper. I mean it man, don't stop grinding until your nose falls out with you. Heat those bastards up gentle.
• Get your big beautiful eggs and fry three of them. However you like. Again, throw as much black pepper on there are you have available. 

Now create a ring of sausages around the outside of your big plate. Pour the beans in the middle and plop the eggs on the top. Behold, The Sleeper!

So, you can make this, even with the worst hangover. You complete this meal, I promise you man, you will go to sleep. You will eventually wake up feeling much better than before. 

You can thank me with money, or romance, or high paying work. Up to you. I'm also available to endorse a wide variety of enterprises. If you have a business or venture that you feel would benefit from the trusted support of Kinky John Fowler, then let me know. Millions of dollars can do all sorts of things. Fan-tastic.

Until next time!"

Haribos runs off to grab some paper to make notes and he always forgets things, on returning starts writing using capitals as needed for important information. Has to pause mid-way remembering his mother using vinegar with the newspaper to clean the windows bless her. Sort of worked but noted not to boil it. Got it.

Realizing the extra advise on hangover cure requires immediate action and wonders off to buy a lot of booze to test this particular theory with a promise to himself to return should he make it through the night to try out The Sleeper.

John returns to the ever riveted crowd, determined as ever to continue enriching the lives of the populous. 

"I am back! I know, it may be hard to believe, but my work here is far from done. Today's helpful advice is incredibly simple, but far reaching in its application. Something my old man told me when I was a child.

If you want to do anything. Anything that takes time and effort, never do too much. Just do a little bit, and do it often."

He scanned the crowd who were a little less blown away with his blinding insight than he thought they may be. He pressed on none the less.

"At first you will be full of enthusiasm, piss and vigor. You will be waving everything from your mind to your libido at. If you were left alone you'd pursue this goal day and night. But that almost always ends in failure. The work-rate can not be sustained and little by little, the enthusiasm dies. Love turns into work and eventually the passion for the task dies in much the way your ex wife's did. Remember?

However! If you always do less than you think you can, and always leave the task wanting to do more, you will be far more likely to stay the course. You will retain your desire to return to work each time and you will be very unlikely to burn yourself out. Trust me. I have mastered many things. I've known many wonders and slept in far more exotic beds than my humble beginning ever imagined.

So... Don't overdo it. Do a little, but do it often."

Takin' a stroll through a thoroughfare, Paddy saw a tag. A handstyle he knew all too well. He wandered across the street, and a car screeches to a halt and blares its horn. Paddy just smiles as he saunters on down to check out the message written by a family member. Wicked wicket though I wonder if this was one of my cousin's doings, Paddy explores the wall with his hand. 

John had casually strolled back to the original scene of the crime, a fuckin' beauty of a man this guy. Even all the Gods above could not dirty such a fuckin' pageant-ready face. I mean fuckin' look at this guy's suit! C'mon! Paddy wasn't gay by any means, but he definitely had some intrusive thoughts as the fuckin' angel of a man waltzed his ass along the sidewalk parallel to a thoroughfare. What a magnificent creature that stands before me, I wonder what such a beautiful being shrouded in genetic superiority has to say, Paddy thinks to himself as he lights up a kicker stick. He swiftly picks the pocket of a civilian passin' by, and makes brisk strides to follow the guy. Gotta have a listen, Paddy smiles above the dark blue bandana hung from his neck. 

Ah! What a piece of knowledge this guy just dropped, I feel like a bomb just hit my brain. That's a fuckin' timeless one. This guy is a God damned legend. I swear he's the return of Jesus hisself, PP thinks to himself as he listens in.

"Right, that's a very valid point sir. Please, take this. It's all I can spare at the moment"

Paddy reaches into his pocket and hands Kinky_John some money for sharin' his thoughts with the world.