Cunt was up to his fucking usual selfishness last night. After allowing him some time to indulge in his moronic beats with his urchin ‘mates’ (who incidentally are very quiet, it’s only he I hear lauding it over them like the underachieving egomaniac psychopath that he fucking well is) my foot finally slammed against the floor during a entirely out of tune and shouted rendition of Bowie’s Rock ‘n Roll Suicide. I’m not having that. Myfwt was very supportive as I shook with rage during and after the incident, bless her.
The battery terminal screw saga has had an unlikely ending, in addition to finding the screw I bought to replace the one I lost, I walked outside to fit the new screw and trod directly upon the one I’d ‘lost’. Feeling oddly chuffed I rode into the ninth circle of hell that is Wimbledon and strutted off down the street in order to procure a pair of socks. For some reason the ladies were paying more than a bit of attention to yours truly, indeed, some smiled as I passed, actually, whole groups simpered as I ambled by, dead casual like.
Even if I do say so myself, I’m no pig but this sort of heedfulness to my person wasn’t usually so pedantic, I pondered my physical self, slim bloke with a biker jacket carrying a crash helmet, mmm, nothing unusual there, must be my new jeans I concluded, they do fit fucking well and… my fly was open -I’m used to button flies you see, psychologically when I do up the top button that’s me done, belt up and off I go- I indiscreetly zipped myself up much to the audible amusement of a slaggle of prols by the bus stop.
For the past few evening I’ve been reading Russell Brands biography ‘My Booky Wook’. I’m not going to bang on about it because it’s simply excellent and you must all read it at once. Sadly last night following the incident with the wrongcock below I finished it at 1am following a skinful of Gin and Tonics. It’s rather peculiar, as I feel strangely lost having completed it; I now have this dreadful urge to seek Russell out in order to absorb him some more. I usually read bios of dead people but being only 33 or I feel strangely unsatisfied with the ending of his fine tome as it’s completely current. I’m all confused.
I leave you today, before another top of the pops tune, with this link http://mylifeofcrime.wordpress.com/2008/01/06/jana-shearer-murder-10408-tyler-tx-boyfriend-christopher-lee-mccuin-killed-her-mutilated-her-and-tried-to-cook-eat-her/ it’s actually rendered me speechless, not because I’ve nothing to say in return but because I feel doing so would actually undermine the idiocy of the postee. Read the comments and please feel free to join in…