Category Archives: Uncategorized

Sobering Up & Cheering Up or; Cancer! Booze! Misery!

This is the first time I’ve woken up on a Saturday and not felt like shit in ages! It’s pretty cool. I decided not to drink for a while, but let me just explain now it has nothing to do with that marketing campaign that cancer charity has come up with. Stoptober or some shit. Anyway, don’t buy into that. It’s a multi-billion pound industry that has absolutely no plans on curing cancer. If they did they would have done some research into some of the things that are actually very successful at curing cancer and stick with that, not fuck around with pointless new technologies that have minimal success rates.

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Red, Red Wine & Naughty, Naughty Courgettes.

I just went to the shop and bought a can of citrus Rio, a bottle of Lucozade, a bottle of Perrier (posh, fizzy water to you peasants) and a bottle of wine, or what I like to call “an alcoholics breakfast”. It’s cool though. I have a 9 – 5 job now so I’m allowed to have a glass of wine before 11 am. Plus, that 9 – 5 (I use that term loosely) is in marketing, looking for marketers who want to partner in a digital marketing agency so I’m pretty much everything 20 year old me hated now so I have to drink. I hate marketing. and advertising. Fuck that shit. I don’t need to be told what I think I want. I know what I think I want; I think I want boobs. It’s boobsI think I want but you never see an advert for boobs, do you?

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Cats, Canaries & Nothing in Particular

Today I saw a cat at Canary Wharf. It was the single most mind-boggling thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a grown, fat, bearded man fuck himself with a strap-on whilst crying because a cunt with a ‘k’ called him a cunt with a ‘c’.

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Scotland, Rimming & Your New God

So the Scottish are hosting an athletic sporting event and as if that isn’t bizarre enough they plan on blowing up some flats for the opening ceremony. Not even blowing them up like in a J.J. Abrams film but just a controlled demolition. These buildings need to come down anyway and they also need to come up with an opening ceremony and some guy, or hen, thought “why not combine the two?” Most, or all, opening ceremonies of all the different games usually have some sort of representation of what that country is about and someone was sat in their office and though “Flats blowing up! What’s more Scottish than that?” and everyone agreed with him. Or her. Once again, it could be a hen. “Hen” is Scotland talk for woman by the way, in-case you’re wondering. It’s not an actual hen. They don’t have poultry making decisions.

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My Plans for Your Radio & Other Stuff You Should Learn to Deal With.

I just spend an hour and a half listening to what could very really have been the worst hour and a half of anyones life, ever. The whole experience was just horrid. Has anyone else ever heard of Radio 1 before? Jesus H. Christ. What’s going on? Every single song sounds like six other songs all played at the same time but with Rhianna on backing vocals. Someone needs to let them know that it’s alright to play songs released before this week, too. Also, nobody gives a shit about Dane Bowers. I know it’s a Sunday afternoon and that but I don’t understand why Dane Bowers was on it. They refuse to play any songs that came out earlier than fifteen minutes ago but then have guests who were forgotten about by 1998. I don’t know who does their booking but they fucked up bad today. I’m almost certain they got sacked.

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Learning Welsh, Redcoat Bastards & One Hell of a Good-Looking God.

I’m learning welsh and it’s awesome. I literally know every single thing on the “lesson 1” bit of the website. I’m all over this shit. Welsh should be learning me. I did find out that when you’re talking about (or talking too? Ironically I can’t work out the English bits) God you can be informal. He’s such a cool dude, that God. He just doesn’t give a fuck. I wish I was as chilled out as God.

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A Poem About Poetry


Poetry, Poetry,
Poetry’s gay.
Poetry, poetry,
Poetry’s gay.
Oscar Wilde?
He fucked a child,
Dylan Thomas?
Well, he died.
Because poetry, poetry,
Poetry’s gay.