trace

I have a hangover from a bottle of wine and one g & t. This indicates to me that the combination of abstinence and not glugging back a bottle after the pub has already reduced my tolerance, which is a good thing I guess.

Actually, I have a headache more than a hangover. And my thumb hurts. This has a lot to do with cutting off a segment of lime and the end of my fucking thumb simultaneously. I bled like I’d been flayed, there was claret all over the fucking place, I utilised 6 plasters, 6!The end of my thumb looks like Ron Jeremy’s helmet after a hard days work.

I did sod all last night, I was exhausted from a combination of a lack of sleep and cycling. I couldn’t even be arsed to cook so I slammed a pair of posh haddock fishcakes in the oven and knocked together some tomato and cucumber in mayo, Dijon and pepper.

I made some notes during House for some scribbling I’m planning, I kept my eye on proceedings though it wasn’t a particularly good one. I’m not sure why I am such a fan of it; it’s a very formulaic American drama, sentimental, pretty and at times beggar’s belief. But it has something, Hugh Laurie is superb and the best of the writing is saved for his character, which I also like. It offers a place for my head to escape. But not last night.

Big Brother 8. Fucking hell, the most annoying person in there so far is Tracy, the incarnation of a nightmare, I can actually imagine waking up and seeing it at the foot of my bed, it standing up slowly, bellowing ‘ows in going’ in that Baritone voice prior to raping me with a strap-on, if it needs one. She moans at the other girls for wearing make up but seems to think her fucking 80’s haircut, labret and tongue piercing are exempt from vanity. She’s got a hair trigger temper and I can see her kicking off at the drop of a roll-up.

There is another reason I think she’s a wanker. Much more personal. When I was in my early 20’s there was somewhat of a mini psychedelic revival, there was this great little club in Deptford called The Crypt which was frequented by me and my little pals. We’d all take lots of speed and ride up there, see some bands have a drink drop some acid take some more speed, and ride back. The Ozric Tentacles were like a house band and just before the place was shut down I was fortunate enough to see The Stone Roses prior to being signed.

The reason the place was shut down was because of cunts like Tracy. All of a sudden there were builders in there hugging you, wide-eyed pilled out turds with whistles and fluorescent clothing, the soaring crunching guitars and rock beats were exchanged by a single booming pulse, Neanderthal noise for Neanderthal’s. So unsubtle and moronic were these twats that they drew the attention of the police and government and all of a sudden bars were being raided, clubs and venues were being shut down, The Crypt being one of them, and the reinforced zero tolerance to drugs, gatherings and parties had a massive negative impact on all of us.

All thanks to Tracy, the fuck.

(Hey have a nice weekend y’all BYEs)