All in all, you're 28 years old, damn, huh.
For such a big boy you're too light-headed. I wonder 1 day you'll come to Carl & say: "I love you, honey! Would you let me reunite The Libs? I know, that even I've been waiting for this moment in absolute disability of acting, I couldn't help myself loving to being high & to be freaking out. But today I'll try to turn into your perfect lover with bright eyes and I'd never light out when you catch cold, I'll stay with you forever to compel you drinking hot hot heat tea with fresh mint that I've recently picked up in our gorgeous garden with dark roses and 4 trees, so-called John, Gary, Me and You. And today just forgive me, your highness, I'll do my best.
If you want, I'll meet my fate in the cannon's mouth, and my Liverpool saws won't break up your imperfect rules. Or I'll tell you a woful ballad about young lovers, or I'll dress according to modern instances like Kate Moss, or I'll take my satchel and go down the riverside to get hold of some flowers for you only. I'll become your own Lord Protector, as you like it, or I'll travel to Stratford-upon-Avon, just by your sign. And it'll be only a little more for great you, darling. Oh, did I say I love you?"
But, my dear Pete, you won't say that wonderful words. I wish you were kinda perfect good-mannered boy with a lovely coiffure, but you're not. You're stupid dickhead. I'm sorry saying that, but you're a real dickhead for a present moment. I love you, that's why you should behave yourself, inasmuch as in your heart of hearts you're perfect good-mannered boy, living in a perfect concord with music and Carl. Furthemore, you're beautiful it's true dote upon the main sweetheart (that's funny, isn't it, that you're the best amusing chap ever?) of the millennium.
That's all. Pros and cons of being you are needless, I suppose? So, put on your hat and walk down this crackpot street with dignity. It's the best.