If I were a politician, although perhaps a little less on the old swearing, I would probably sound like this quality Oz dude.

She knew she was able to fly,
Because when she came down,
She had dust on her hands from the sky.
She felt so high, the dust made her cry.

If I were me, I could be mistaken for a PRB stunner. Which is polite way of saying I am a curvy redhead. Which is a polite way of saying I am a fat headhead bloke that looks like a girl. With a beard. But hey, we take what compliments we can. Yes, this came about during a conversation of Victoriana.

She knew she could fly like a bird,
But when she said ‘please raise the roof higher’ nobody heard
They never noticed a word.
The light bulbs burn, her fingers will learn.

If I were me, I would say I like the doe-eyed, ample-chested dusty-pink wearing alabaster skinned chicks on the tube. If I weren’t me, I wouldn’t even say such a thing.

If I were a more productive coder, I would have released more than one new piece of code in the past bazillion years. If I were more useful, I would release useful code. That code was written on the coach, using free wireless, in a hurry, as I get ill when I try to do anything other than listen to hip choonery while in transit.

Why should it feel like a crime,
If I want to be with you all the time?
Why is it measured in hours?

If I were to say that people get the wrong impression of me, and think I am some ranting libertarian with striding viewpoints on things, would you believe me? In the people get the wrong impression bit, as obviously I am a libertarian. Nor am I given to ranty rants. Nor do I stride much.

We should make our own time.
You’re welcome in mine.

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