Letter to all the chefs in the world. I am a chef looking for a job and I sob with anxiety in a society that needs sobriety because i can’t pay the rent today and they treat me like a pest. I need to rest to be the best. A chef can be deaf because any crook can cook with a book and to be good you just need to want to do good. Cooking with a bookig is the easiest job so why chefs earn so much money?. I am alone without a loan. I have experience and I run out of patience. I run on love, I live in London and I feel abandoned. London is dead and I am in bed stoned feeling my bones. I have to evolve with love. I need a chance to change. This is my covering letter, it can not be done better. You don’t like my poetry because the rhyme sounds like carpentry. You never ever like my poetry because the cause is entry of plenty of knowledge. To know is good and in the dark wood the bark comes from sheeps that you would want in a ship to sink with ink the censorship. What is going on?, the bong is banned and the song is bad. The tune has to change soon before the world becomes gore. Do you understand and stand?. I teach each peach has a seed indeed. I teach each beach is filthy and they don’t feel guilty. Put the sin in the bin and close the lid to live. Share if you dare and care about despair. Thank you.
I am not being funny. Money makes life sunny. Mummy
