All Men Are Bastards : Discuss

It is a salient lesson to learn that blokes are all, by default, bastards. Some don't mean to be, some set out to be exactly that & some teeter on the fence before falling into the 'B' pit that is conveniently located on both sides. So gentlemen, before you get out of your prams & rail against such a slanderous accusation, remember you're screwed before you open your mouths & we'll all save ourselves a fortnight. No-one is gonna thank you for being considerate & neither will they thank you for being an arsehole. It's a tightrope you'll walk for the rest of your life. Deal with it & shut the fuck up...

Ms W very sweetly 'left her phone running' last night at a Sebastian Horsley spoken word thing somewhere in London town (apparently I live there but I've seen scant evidence of this as of yet) & it got me thinking as I sat in pyjamas in my latest digs. Mr H has somehow managed to embrace his bastardhood & make himself popular into the bargain. Bill Hicks did the same. And the 'nice' ones, the Hugh Grants of this world, are also bastards (at least I think he is, judge for yourselves). Do you see where this is going? Probably Rome, & all roads lead there. If I had more time I'd prove it to you with bits of sellotape & graph paper but as I'm in a pub with the worst wireless in the West I'm not going to bother. Instead I'll go back, have a raw cauliflower & one third of a bottle of red wine for my dinner & pretend what's in here makes enough sense to publish. Which it does not...

Substandard Homecoming Blues

Bloody hell. I'm coming back to Blighty tomorrow & I've got the fear. After two months of working in 42˚ heat, drinking my own bodyweight in Stella every day, writing bollocks on the *other* blog & being told that 1000 years ago is relatively recent, the time has come to bite the bullet & crash-land into grim reality. My sources tell me there's a recession on, the weather's pants, christmas is a-coming yet again, Brown is still in & I owe Croydon Council a fucking fortune. Hmmm... I also shall be working in Newport Pagnell, much accoladed for its exemplary service station on the M1 : Be still my beating heart.

But things ain't all bad : There's affordable 'one way' vino & warm beer to be had (God I've missed that), I can eat something without aubergine in it, sleep for longer than 3.5 hours & light fires at night. Maybe live it up a little in the Big Smoke. See some chums. Watch Emmerdale. Throw a party perhaps : Tis the season to be jolly after all...

Not convincing, is it?

Post

It has been pointed out to me that I don't post often : So here's one

(normal slack service to be resumed in a fortnight)