Category Archives: charlie brooker


Seems everyone is jumping on my insomnia bandwagon, first Heath Ledger overdoses on sleeping pills and then Charlie Brooker starts claiming to have it –it’s not on frankly. Last night after yet another evening of barefaced abstinence, insomnia happened. The ironic thing about insomnia is that you’re not how long it takes you to fall asleep until you wake up. So last night I woke up at 5am after falling asleep at 1am, I ascertained it had taken me an hour to get to sleep but was now fucking wide awake. After waking up this morning at 8am I concluded I’d been awake for 2 fucking hours. This means I have had a total of 5 hours broken sleep. Great.

Yesterday I had a hangover; the day crawled past like an octogenarian tortoise, work was attempted but never really gelled. Today I’m just exhausted but I’ll reluctantly admit my head is clearer; I’m preparing myself for another night off. That’ll be two voluntary nights in a row. I honestly cannot remember the last time I deliberately punished myself by not having a few glasses of wine of an evening but I’m 99.9% I was still living with my folks.

After ‘work’ I trundled home, redressed and caught the tube for a few stops. I’d arranged to meet Myfwt at the estate agent for a mortgage assessment. The mortgage bloke was rather portly and as gay as window but trustworthy, succinct and decent. Just so you know I’m not displaying naivety about these sorts of fellows, myself and many of my friends (on my recommendation) used his predecessor to our immense satisfaction. We went through some stuff and I fought to remain conscious (it was much worse having to go through all this shit a second time). Myfwt was much more on the ball and we reached a happy conclusion with regard to how much we can afford without being stretched to the point of farting out blood for the next decade.

Sadly the reality of the expense of moving means that virtually every penny I’ve made on my current place will be lost in deposit/costs of the next place… I’m still secretly hoping they’ll be a few quid left over to acquire a younger Black Bitch but I’m not holding my breath.

Cunt is being a fucking cunt again, after a series of ‘testing, testing, one two, thank you’ (there is NO ONE FUCKING THERE) he’s taken to playing acoustically whilst bellowing out of tune/time into an amped up microphone, the deranged oxygen thieving cunt. I cannot describe to you the noise he makes.

On the one hand it’s toe-curlingly embarrassing because he so tone deaf and woefully devoid of any talent, yet so deluded he doesn’t even have the little bit of brain to stop him impose this honking desert of feeblemindedness on others. Why would anyone in their right mind do that? Why would you go out of you way to inform the world that you’re a fucking arsehole of the loftiest proportions? WHY?

The sooner I leave that place the better, and don’t go thinking I’ll forget all about it when I’m gone. He’ll pay for what he’s done, by the power of Greyskull he’ll fucking pay.