Surprise, Surprise, My Life is Shit Again or; Why I can’t Join ISIS.

Working in Berlin is a funny one, eh? It turns out the only reason employers give you a job is so they can fuck you over in the shittest possible way as soon as you think you’re comfortable. I don’t mind losing a job, as long as it’s for a decent reason. Well, to be fair I didn’t lose this job. I quit. But I quit because my hours were cut from full-time to 4 a week because the person I replaced decided they didn’t like their new job and wanted to come back. The fucking prick. So what do I do now? I’m poor and jobless again. Oh! And homeless, because I can’t afford to move into my new flat today anymore.

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I Googled “Periscope” by Myself, or; Fuck That Puddle.

So there’s a “puddlewatch” going down on Periscope (If you don’t know what that Periscope is, Google it. I’m not your mother and you’re an adult). Someone, somewhere (Probably Drummond), has set up a webcam to watch a puddle (I assume Drummond because its hashtag is *NAME REMOVED*, but it’s just a normal puddle. There are currently 10 people watching it. Two of them have a tape measure, yet people are walking through it. Walking through it! Dressed in normal clothes! It’s the kind of puddle that’s just a puddle, but it has a bigger following on periscope than I have had bowel movements my entire life, I assume. People are fucking insane.

Good for me, though, because I haven’t done a Live Action Comedy Blog-Cast in fucking ages! The last one was intense. If you want to have a play-by-play update of my using Firefox instead of Google Chrome for the first time and all the comical situations it got me in, check this out!

Anyway! 15 minutes have passed since I last saw what the fuck this puddle shit is all about. Let’s check back!


Artists rendition. Actual puddle not available for comment as of print.


Another cyclist cycled through the puddle. I’ll keep you up-to-date on the goings on.

11 more minutes passed: Four more people have arrived. One man walked towards it with clear confidence, but bailed at the very last minute. A German Skoda advert just played on Spotify.

6 more minutes passed: Two youths walk straight through puddle, both looking at their phones, browsing Grindr.

2 more minutes passed: All original Ponders* have left. Three newcomers have arrived. One man walks consistently in-and-out of shot. e is obviously skeptical of the ponds powers.


So yeah. That scene change just happened. Then the camera went around this office, and everyone was cheering and waving at the camera, all on their own periscope accounts, probably. Trying to be all “meta”.  I want to call them hipsters, but they’re Northern and we all know there’s no such thing as a Northern hipster. “Oop Norf” they just have cheap DJ’s and bad cocktail bars.

So a massive disappointment. I think it was some marketing pricks. That’s why I removed the hashtag they were using at the start – because fuck marketers. I know I left enough information in for you to Google it and find out yourselves so my dirty protest is, sadly, in vain, but I needed to have that much information in to give you context to what I was narrating to you.

I don’t want you to think I’m mental.

*Coined it

Drunk Bums and U-bahns or; Why I’m the Role Model You Didn’t Know Your Children Needed.

So I did this thing the other day I’ve been putting off doing for a long, long time but it seems to be the norm for comics in Berlin so I’ve bitten the bullet and done it. I’ve made myself a Facebook ‘like’ page. I’m not going to lie to you, but it isn’t a good feeling. I have 1,549 ‘friends’ but it turns out only 126 of them actually like me. How sad it is to learn. I knew not all those 1,549 people were actually my friends, but I thought they at least kinda liked me. Maybe they just barely tolerate me. Facebook should let you make a ‘barely tolerate’ page. They’re missing a gap in the market there.

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Tomatoes, Tea & The Most Disgusting Thing I’ve Done Since Saturday.

First of all I’d like to find out if anyone else knows what the fuck is wrong with the bakeries in Berlin. Half a slice (that’s right, half a slice. As in a thin semi-circle of tomato) is not enough for a baguette. And, on a similar subject, four inch-thick cuts of cucumber (four slices at an inch each, not one slice at four inches. That would be thicker than the baguette, you fool) is far too much to be in the same baguette. It’s just not fucking cricket. I want the vitamins in the tomato. I’m ill (physically ill not Beastie Boys ill) and I’m trying to be responsible about it but staying in bed and eating healthy things but sometimes I feel like the bakery by my house just want’s me to die from a fibre and cucumber overdose. And while we’re at it, sort your fucking cheese out. What you sell isn’t cheese, Germany. It’s just thin slices of stiff milk. Also your crisps suck and paprika isn’t a proper flavour and it’s called a bell pepper not a paprika.

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Down & Out in Kruezberg, Berlin or; The Three-Day Fuck-it-All Challenge!

It’s me! I’m back again! I know I keep bailing on writing these things this year (my last post was June 26th) but I have a legitimate reason for this one taking so long, but it’s not a short tale to tell. Well, it might be but I know it will take a long, long time to write as I’m on an 8 year old Mac that shuts down every ten-or-so minutes and it’s really frustrating for me. It doesn’t play music, it doesn’t play videos, it sometimes tells me it can’t run one program at a time. One is too much for it and it just goes “fuck it” and crashes. What is a stroke of luck though is that I’m currently really sick with a chest cold which has fucked my sleeping pattern up and I’m currently quiting smoking so this laptop has picked the time I’m at my most “chillax” to be the bain of my existence. I’ve hardly punched anything (walls, desks, my own thighs) all evening.

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Ich Bin Ein Berliner, Self-Harming & Bringing Rap Back.

Oh, hello! How are you all? It’s been a while since anything happened in The “Wonderful” World of (Spencer) Miles Lloyd, hasn’t it? I bet you were hoping I had died, weren’t you? Well guess what! Fuck you! I didn’t die and I’ll never die. I cut some of my thumb off, though. Nearly bled to death. Check it!

Silly me.

This was after just 3 hours of consistent bleeding!

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Belgium, The Correct Way to Peadophile & Why I Want to Die.

So I’m in Belgium. That’s pretty cool. I just spent two whole hours trying to find a converter plug thing so I can use my electrics here. It took way longer than it should have. If I was from China I’d have no problem at all finding a plug adapter it seems, but I’m not. I’m not Asian at all. I’m fucking British with shitty British electronics. Oh well. I did find one in the end. Now I’ve come to a pub to write a set for my gig tonight and I asked if there were any tables by plug sockets.

“Are there any tables by plug sockets?” I asked.

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