These 'ere optical mouse bastard things.

The ones with that red light jobbie in the bottom of them instead of a trackball.

Why the fuck does mine keep whizzing off to the top or bottom left hand corner of the screen every now and then and making me close and open things I don't actually want!

Little bastard.

The one at work does it as well.

It's a conspiracey.

Got back home today before Sarah and Jo had got back from church, and while having a ciggie in the garden I noticed a very neat round hole punched through one of the windows in the conservatroy and glass all over the piano and the floor!

It turns out that our next door neighbors son is not a patch on Tiger Woods when it comes to golf. Its all cleared up now and they are going to pay to replace the glass and get it done.

Also Jo had got a new little pc desk to put in the music room and we have moved the bigger desk back into the lounge. Now Jo can prepare work for her course without having to kick me off the computer as we are now a two pc family.

Just going outish to pubwards to lend support and ears and shoulders. As you do.

But cannot not no stop it not never be staying up too late as I have to be up at

"Christ your a twat, they just go round and round in circles" o'clock to watch the Japanese GP live from somewhere near Mount Fuji.

Lewis on pole, Jenson in 6th and the prospect of rain..... oh yes.

OK I will eff off then.

Well it is a bit wet out there.

In the garden that is, where I am popping for the odd cigarette.

And due to said wetness I have to look very carefully where I step being all bare of foot and all. And of course the very very small amount of alcomahol in my system makes it sooooo much easier.

Oh yes what was I talking about....

Slugs!

Not good things to stand on in bare feet. You not the slugs, the slugs wouldn't have bare feet as they don't erm, actually have feet as we know them. Cephalopods of course are just one big foot technically.....

where the fuck did THAT come from...

Never mind.

On with the motley!

Sorry, what is a blog again?

You know, the comment that both compliments you and insults you at the same time.

Tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I'm bored.

Me?

Mine would be when a girlfriend said.

"The first time I saw you naked I didn't know whether to fuck you of feed you some chips"

Eh? Well thanks, I think.

(That was a long time ago by the way. Chips have been consumed since.)

Some song by some band on my mp3 came out with the crystal clear decloration

"None of my friends don't drive BMW's"

Eh? EH!

WELL DO THEY OR DON'T THEY YOU TWAT!

I am off to lunch to read some more of "The Toyminator" By Robert Rankin. Yes I study the classics, what of it?

The song “Superterrorizer” by Black Label Society starts with the wondrous but dumb line

“Like a suicidal doomsday machine”

EH?

A doomsday machine would not be suicidal as it is supposed to bring about doomsday and therefore end its own, and every other fuckers existence – not exactly how I would describe suicidal. Maybe said Doomsday machine is feeling suicidal because it has been told it will never bring about doomsday and therefore feels it has no purpose in life, who knows. The concept is not adequately explored in the song, as it just gets right on to the big de tuned riffs and mental guitar solos.

Like all good metal should.

The bloody air con is still going wapp-a-wapp-a-wappa

AND

the soding finance system has frozen so I have to re boot it

AND

it's too cold in here. Could be all that wapp-a-wapp-a-wappa bollocks

AND

I cant find a decent vid for "born with a tail" by the Supersuckers on youtube!

AND

no matter how many records I investigate the damn file seems to be just as big as it was

AND

I am going to get my nipples frozen off outside having a ciggie.

Well it just is OK?

Got my two sizes too large black nylon bomber jacket out of the wardrobe today and lost myself inside it. This orange lined thingy was purchased from one of them there stalls at Camden Lock, just behind Dingwalls, which is where I also got most of my fatigue/combat trousers from. They also sell things like handcuffs, gasmasks and pilots helmets. Yes, I know. Strange but fun.

Why am I all coated up? Well the bloody weather was supposed to be windy and cold and wet but typically for me, when I get round to changing from autumn to winter style clothing the weather gets better. It was quite warm out there this morning.

In other equally exciting news (stop yawning at the back!) The air-conditioning vent in the ceiling just behind me is making a “wap-a-wap-a-wap” noise and is driving everyone nuts! Thank god for MP3 players.

Looking forward to tonight as it will be big drinkies and home cooked meal stuffing in boat race activities at S&F’s tonight.

Hope you all have a great day. I feel in a rather good mood for some strange reason.

That better fucking last!

1 - A pirate (gasp! no reeeeely)

2 - A panda. Proper big animal suit thingy.

3 - Both halfs of a furry Rhino. On different days obviously.

4 - A Roman Centurion. Good bloody costume that was, the best Maurice Angels could supply.

5 - A fictitious band member. Looked a bit like the pirate in 1, but with shades and a leather jacket on. Who said I am not adaptable.

6 - half of a conjoined twin. OK, this was me and the late Mr Kelly standing in one leg each of a big pair of trousers as ours had got soaked in the downpour as we rode over to Kizlodes house. I think he has a picture somewhere.

Erm, cant think of anymore. And now its time to go home.

Your go! What have you dressed up as.

Coffee is needed in abundance.

I am fighting a file that has over 300 records in it that I am supposed to investigate, and I (after our jolly meeting) cant be arsed.

But I must show willing. Actually the wind has been knocked out of our collective sails a bit, but we will soldier on regardless.

I don't actually know why I am in such a reasonable/good mood.

Must continue to fight the good fight.

God I can't believe I just said that........

Basically, yes you have to do some more work and help out the other team with the calls that will be generated by the gazillion letters they will be sending out. So customers will be calling up and having a go at us over some service we want them to pay for, but have (at the moment) no idea how the service works or how it is implemented. That will make us such informed commentators and a pleasure to talk to that no one at all will loose their temper with us. Never mind the fact that they will not be in the best of moods when they call in the first place. But we have to show willing BECAUSE

Next Wednesday we have another, bigger meeting attended by the entire department where they will, amongst other things, tell us how many jobs there are going to be and whether or not we have to re-apply for our own positions.

Yep, we may have to re-apply for our own jobs. Mad innit?

And of course, we may not get them. Which will result in us getting tossed into the doldrums of our company policy where they will either offer us redundancy or another job somewhere that will be a git of a bastard of a boring thing in the hope we run screaming to the job centre.

Fuckers.

Mind you, its all the same old same old……

We have a two-hour meeting today starting at 10.0am. Our good natured and friendly line manger happened to mention as he was handing out the agenda that this meeting would “no doubt upset some of you”. Now he was joking when he said it, well at least it was said in a jokey way, but that’s a bit worrying.

Are they going to cut off our Internet access?

Are they going to give us more work to do?

Are they yet again going to move the goal posts?

Who knows?

I suppose all will be revealed.

It is actually, without a hint of a smidgen of an iota of a wisp of a doubt, cold in London this morning.

Proper “see your own breath” chilly out there, and when the wind gets up it is bloody freezing.

True we do have a beautiful clear blue sky and the low angle of the sun light is making the trees glow, and the full moon looked fantastic hanging there ghostly white above the roof tops on my way in – but it is chuffing cold OK?

So why then have I seen a number of men without any form of coat this morning? Two blokes in just shirts and one guy in a t-shirt! What? (And before you start – yes they had trousers and shoes and such. Don’t be so literal)

Most people have gone for fleeces or proper winter coats today, so what where these oddballs up to eh? Trying to make the rest of us look like wimps?

Could have been Geordies I suppose.

Said Mrs F as I left S&F's house this morning. She is concerned for my welfare bless her. Its just a cold woman!

And anyway, I was born in Dagenham - I'm well 'ard!

ahem.

Sniff, cough, chew, yuck!, drip, wipe.

and such.

In other news,

Due to my sartorial senses being little more than "grab something clean and put it on" I am dressed in a white t-shirt and black fatigue trousers, which makes me look like a badly poured pint of Guiness.

Have a marvelous day and it is NOT my fault Row has a cold. No matter what she says. She lives in a blame culture or something.

This could possibly fit under walkdontruns request for “what silly thing have you done on dope” stories, as this occurred at a party and the parties I used to go to had a bit of the old “wacky backy” floating around. But was probably due to huge amounts of booze.

And I have probably told you all this before, but I’m bored so its high time you were.

It is 5am on a bright summers morning. Kizlode and I are sat in his garden, with music playing quietly in the front room and drifting out to us. It is the morning after a party and we are still up. Everyone else has gone or gone to bed.

I say we, because Kiz has fallen asleep now, sat on his chair and is snoring. So I go and get myself yet another drink and have yet another cigarette.

“Kiz! Kiz! Wake up you Llwnt!” nothing.

I gaze at the big fellow as he lists to one side looking like a super tanker with a leak. I glance down and notice that he appears to be sitting on a purple cushion. I say appears to be, as I can see a little corner of it sticking out from under his groin area.

Then I remember – Kiz has a whole in his jeans and THAT is not a bit of purple cushion. Its his scrotum, complete with a bit of the filling shall we say. I start to giggle and then, as if by magic, the little demon appears on my shoulder.

“DO IT!”

So I take out my lighter and spark it to life, and deftly play the flame over said “purple cushion” for at least two seconds in an attempt to wake him up.

NOTHING!

This makes me giggle even more – which actually wakes Kiz up! So he gets another drink, we chat for a bit and then decide it would be possibly a reasonable idea to get some sleep. He goes up to his bed and I hit the sofa.

After about four or five hours we are back up and setting about a brace of breakfast beers, purely to stave off the lurking hangovers you understand.

“I should have come in from the garden last night instead of sitting out there with all them Gnats and midges around” says he.

“Why?”

“One of the little bastards has got in through the hole in my jeans and bit me on the left bollock, its really itching!”

I started to giggle and, looking as sincere as I could while shaking with laughter, apologised and confessed all.

Lucky for me, he saw the funny side of it.

Sorry about that one mate.

Sniff, drip, cough.

Damn, have to wait till Friday for some more money. I have some at the moment but not as much as I want - who ever has that much, but I think I have enough to make it if I live like a church mouse.

So that'll be me scurrying about on the floor going "eeek eeek" for the rest of the week.

But this financial situation also means I cannot afford a big lunch time pig out excused by the saying "Feed a cold and starve a fever" which is a pain because I effing starving.

Oh well. Lets drag my dripping carcass down to the sandwich shop and see what is on offer. If I drip on some stock I might get them cheaper.

What? who said "gross!"

Well my nose and trains.

What is going on there then eh?

I mean, right now I have a stinker of a cold – NOTE not “man flu” I am at work, so there. But I am full of snot and my head feels like it is packed with Styrofoam insulation.

I walk to the station and my nose is what it is, just a nose. A rather big pointy one – but just a hooter, nothing more. No drippage, no escapes of nose tadpoles – nothing.

Yet get on a train and it seems that I have had a tap grafted on to the front of my face. A tap with a bit of a leak, which has to be constantly attended to with tissues and wiped regularly. How bloody charming I must look.

Get off the train at the other end and, as if by magic, all liquid expulsions cease!

What is going on there then eh?

Is stuck to the bottom of my monitor in front of me.

It says "Get money on way home"

This is to remind me to get out some money to pay off half my credit card bill. The reason I am only paying off half of it is that, due to the wonderful timing of said bill, there is less money in my account than I owe the credit card. Not that it is a huge bill. It's just "that time of the month"

Dont get paid till friday, last date for paying the bill is the 5th of next month soooo, it will be close. I will get half of it delt with and try on Friday to sort the other half.

So my expensive call girl habit will have to be put on the back burner for another week.

Well you have to behave responsibly some times don't you?

On Saturday night I was sat at the pc round at S&F's as I so often am, when I just started sneezing. Six in a row out of knowhere. Odd, I thought and then realised that my nose was running and my throat was sore!

Talk about rapid onset nose tadpoles! yeeek!

So now I have a voice that has gone all husky, I am thinking of doing some part time work on a sex chatline, just to help pay the bills you understand.

ahem.

Anyway, on the subject of sneezing - are you one of those restrained people who sneeze very quietly or do you let rip and enjoy it? I have noticed that on average women tend to sneeze in a very restrained way, but where is the fun in that?

I am a little damp around the edges this morning.

It was very much pissing down when I got to Liverpool Street station and a mass of commuters where standing looking at the rain blasting past almost horizontaly and thinking "I am NOT going out in that"

My heart was uplifted by the sight of a young woman with a very short skirt and wonderful legs running quickly across the concourse and up some stairs. Not a good choice of clothing for today lady.

So I am sitting here at my desk slightly steaming as I dry off and hoping that the liquid content of the atmosphere subsides before lunchtime.

Hope the weather is better where you are as we dive into the first day of the working week.

Got to get dressed and go play my guitar at a tree in the garden.

In other news,

Tapas makes you poo and fart.

I am not mad.

Thank you.

Would be a great title for a post about the time Jo and I had a meal in a, erm, restaurant thingy.

In france, with fucking scary waiters who could appear out of nowhere in an otherwise empty gaff to scare the living shite out of us. OK me.

But I is am a bit drunk (gimme gimme gimme best pissed up bloggerage award type thingamy again you swines!) and very knackerededidedous due to waking up at 05.00 this morning. And still not being bed ridden.

So in conclusion, boats.

"Right, off to Brighton tomorrow with S&F. What do I need to take with me?"

"Sun cream?"

"Are you nuts! this is England! your "swarthy" complexion will provide you with enough protection from the sun. It's the rain and wind you wanna worry about."

"Camera?"

"Of course, just in case you see anything photogenic"

"Bucket and spade?"

"Oh do grow up! Sarah is not coming with us and you do look such a tit building sandcastles on your own when your 44"

"lots of 2p bits so we can go on those roll a 2p bit machines on the pier"

"Are you having a laugh! there is culture to be had and byways to wander! you can go in the pavillion, OK - it may be a disgusting shade of bad stomache bug after effect green, but in side it is very pretty. OK over the top. Well OK, it looks like the inside of a tarts handbag but it is "pretty" in an over the top way"

"Shorts"

"FUCK OFF! you are not scaring the residents of Brighton with your hairy Gorilla fur legs! and see above - its not going to be shorts wearing weather."

"Sunglasses? probably not after your last comment"

"Oh no, you can never look too cool. You in fact could try starting"

"Llwnt!"

"Takes one to know one"

I am sat here at my desk working like a mad whirling working thing (ahem) wearing a rather old black t-shirt. Emblazoned across the chest in big orange Day-Glo letters is the word

“INCREDIBLE” and the little logo of Pop will Eat Itself. Down back on the right hand side there is a similarly bright column of “glyphs” that look like they would be at home trampled into a cornfield and viewed from a balloon.

I got the t-shirt at a gig years ago in the Marquee in the Charing Cross Road, after watching said band. The main memory of this rather fun night was the seating arrangements that had to be made for one of the lead singers (Kurt or the other one) as he had broken his leg below the knee.

So they had a seat attached to an extension from the lighting rig, which was about 10ft above the stage and extended out over the front row. He sat in it all night with his plastered leg sticking out, radio mike in one hand and megaphone in the other (for the shouting bits down the mic) and shook his little mop headed bonce and sang or “rapped” his parts all through the gig.

Dedication is what you need obviously. Great gig as well.