Now that we're allowed out, I've felt the need to start chanting. So far with the help of Mrs DJ I've managed to adorn myself in a bright orange bedsheet, shaved my bonce bald and procured myself some brown loafers. I haven't got any symbols, so I'm using the lids off some old saucepans.
The freedom and texture of the Egyptian cotton has had a profound affect on my loins, so much so, that I've so far molested myself on numerous occasions, once so vigorously that the sheet actually caught fire, causing me to douse myself down in the local duck pond.
My melodic tones have so far sent Horace the llama in to a state of high delerium and so far in Tesco's carpark he's made hay with a Labrador and gave chase to a poodle called Barry.
After such trying times, I urge you all to take up this pastime and find your inner Che,
I've also been studying the mystic arts for thirty years and have achieved the 9th gate of concsiousness. I was trained by a Brahmin monk from Basingstoke called Reg and often enjoy tantric flying.

Only last night I had an out of the body experience and found myself bollok naked and chanting in the park. When I got home, two empty bottles of Bushmills were in the kitchen. My trained mind must have drained them by telepathy.

I'm pleased that others also participate in projecting their auras.
take care and stay safe now
John...