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Detained / 23 February 2013

Dear David Cameroon, I'm sorry to hear that you went mad and lost your job ... got detained and we now share a room. It's funny when you end up becoming disabled, it wasn't exactly what you'd planned for, this being unstable, was it? So now you're here with all us crips, swallowing all from your tablet strips. Waiting for family to visit again, knowing that you're in here means that you are insane.

My name's Bonk, welcome to my second home. It's not great and they won't let you use the phone. But while you're in here I'll tell you my views, now that you're one of us stuck with no news. And what you say won't matter, as they all know what's best, these doctors with chatter. Can't you see Macaroon that you're having delusions, so what makes you arrive at these stupid conclusions. You say were all going to be taxed for the AIR, and more tax we'll pay for the growth of our hair.

MMMMWWWAAAhhhhhhhhh you say with a devilish laugh ("David" a nurse shouts "its time for your bath") As you sit at the tap end you're muttering low ... "MORE CUTS MORE CUTS THESE DISABLED MUST GO! Keep all the money for those rich and healthy, how do you think we get so wealthy?!" Jumping right in at the end of his bath, David! I shout, are you having a laugh? Your now just like me, you're a right raving nutter, your a cripple yourself, you old benefit cutter. You'll find like the others you'll need daily help, to survive in this place, as your memories melt. Well it's too late my man, your now one of us, making the most of your NHS TRUST.

Stand in the queue and await medication, no name dropping here, a mad hatters convention! We say what we like but nobody hears, THEY ALL KNOW WHAT'S BEST ... well, you created the fear. Dave, have you got the time? This watch isn't mine, it's not real, but it's fine. And with time on your hands, now that you're 'better' and leaving this hole, will you write me a letter? Or will you go on the dole? Even though you look well and fit and healthy, you must do some work to support the next wealthy. Paying your tax and the health contributions, you'll find that being off sick is not the solution. Go out there and get a job you low life benefit claimer, your just a slob.

"My name's David, former Prime Minister, will you give me a job that's not too sinister. I reckon as Pope I could play this new role, protecting the perverts, a sainthood my goal. Will you give me a job ..? "

Bonk 23rd February 2013

Keywords: bipolar,blogging,mad creative,medication,mental health