tripe

I’ve been a busy little fucker. I decided after Christmas that I had too much crap lurking about the gaff and need a tidy up. As of 9pm yesterday every nook and cranny has been purged of unwanted tripe, the only caveat is the loft. I’m not going in there, whatever I possess that exists in the loft can be passed on to whoever takes over my gaff. Annually I reach in for the plastic fibre optic Christmas tree, then a week or so later it gets thrown back. Apart from when I actually moved in that’s the only relationship I have with that place. It’s black in there, black.

Spurning this part of the flat I emptied out a large cupboard in the kitchen and within 10 minutes had two bin liners full of complete rubbish, how I’d come to posses such ephemera is anyone’s guess but after it had been ejected from the premises it rather felt as if I’d had a bloody big shit. Following this I took to my PC, I made it wireless (soon I’ll will fulfil my ambition of emailing mum as I hang a rat) and was up until 3am injecting it with music which in turn was stuffed in my Nanni. I’m exhausted today but feel all 21st century, like Buck Rogers but with a better haircut.

This morning the printer (a birthday gift from my colleagues) arrived. It does everything, which is marvellous, though it’s the size of a fucking mini, which isn’t so marvellous. I’m also waiting for the part for my Black Bitch to show up, I’m fairly sure that they too will give me grief in terms of transporting them home but it has to be done. Come Monday I’ll be the most sorted man in town.

Has David Mitchell been moonlighting as two musicians?