Take that pineapple off of your head

It seems appropriate at this point to take a break from this developing story and mention that my very dodgy sponsor has returned finally from his prolonged educational holiday. Nice one mighty white, London always appreciates your presence. And your presents.

I remember being in the Bull and Bush one new year's eve and Treble was sooo fucked that we had covered the table in front of him entirely with pint glasses so that if he did puke it would mostly be contained. Ok, so we were all pretty fucked too, I did say it was new years after all. Anyway, eventually he looked so fucked that someone must have told a bouncer to sort him out as one started very deliberately working his way through the crowd towards us. Luckily for our little drunkard (we were underage at this point), another little drunkard staggered over and sat next to James and knocked lots of the glasses on the table as he sat down. The bouncer turned up and saw this little fuck up trying to steady a table full of empty pints and grabbed him and dragged him out. We all cracked up at the near miss and were most likely discussing how James would never know how close he had come when we turned round and realised he was gone.

I doubt we were particularly worried as James can look after himself, but either in search of him, or because I needed to make peace with the Germans, I went to the toilet and bumped into him. He was washing leaning over the sink with the taps running, splashing water onto his face. Now as it was New years, so the toilets were particularly ram packed, and because it was a bit of a shit hole anyway, people had been peeing in the sink all night. It had it’s own individual queue for most of the night. So based on this unsavoury information I started telling him to stop as it’s probably pretty rank, but as long as he gets the water straight from the tap it’s alright. But then I realised he had blocked up the sink, so I started lecturing him about cleanliness. Until he finally interrupted with “What are you talking about, I didn’t plug the sink”. I looked again. Someone else had blocked it. With puke. And Whiteboy was scooping from the water which had settled on the top.

I suppose that boy has enough stories of me being the fucked up one though. Or when he’s fucked me up. I’ll never forget the time we were both entirely off our nuts and reality was seeming pretty hard to keep in touch with. Everything felt like sand for one thing. And luckily enough, we were right by a beach so went and stood barefoot on the sand saying “Wow, everything feels like this!”. But anyway, I remember sitting there trying to keep track of who I was, why I was laughing and why I wasn’t feeling quite right, when James turned to me and said “Man, did you remember to close the shop”. My complete confusion erupted out of every pore in my brain. “What?” was all I could say, but not in a “What the fuck are you talking about” kind of way, more in a “Shit, what have I forgotten” kinda way. “The shop man, it was your turn to close it. Shit man did you forget to close the shop? You better go close it man”. And so on. I’ve never closed any shop in my life. That really fucked me up. That bastard.

I think James is best summed up with a similar incident when he was trying to fuck with another friend of ours when he was fucked. “Hey look man, you’ve got a frog on your foot” was his line of attack this time. The reply was “Hey James, you’ve got an idiot in your head”. He probably does you know. Only joking, James it’s good to have you back. You’re a legend. A very dodgy legend.

(ii) Chewie

The scar faced ho put down the shiv and looked at the other girls. This was going to be trouble and one little make shift blade wasn’t going to solve anything. If Chula was going to get a beating, she was going to fight back tooth and nail, not with toothbrush with nails stuck into it. The other girls laughed at her bravery and made some joke to each other about there being no manyana for this bitch. They started moving towards her yipping like hyena’s, hoping to scare this foreign bird and make her understand that she had really hit rock bottom by ending up here. It wasn’t the first tourist they had fucked up in jail, but it might have been there last as they were seriously underestimating their foe. Chula stood up straight from her crouching position and rubbed the little finger over the scar on her face. It was a constant reminder of the last time a group of fuck wits had underestimated her. Although in actuality the repetitive head injuries she had suffered in her life made her forget exactly what reminder that was, but still it felt like a scar of pride rather than shame.

“Fuck this waiting” she thought, “it’s the waiting that kills you. Well maybe it’s the violence that kills you, but the waiting is pretty boring, so I might as well get it over with”.

She ran at the girls screaming every obscenity that she wished her father had never taught her and prepared for the attack. She screwed up her eyes, not in fear, but in anticipation of not wanting blood to get in them in her first frenzied mauling of whoever she got her hands on.

Clang! She went down. The girls had seen her running and simply parted to let this crazy bitch crash into the wall. It was just a cheap ass shitty dividing wall though and her head went half through as she hit, before she fell to the floor clutching the new soon to be scars on her face. A little head appeared through the hole and quickly shooed off the other girls.

“Alright Chewie, got yourself in trouble already?”

Chula looked up. It was the freaky pilot who had landed her in jail in the first place. She had lent him a dress after he had bought her one too many tequila’s and when he was arrested for cross-dressing somehow she had ended up in prison. This bastard had come to make fun of her had he? She got up and charged at the little hole hoping to get him before he popped his head back in. No real chance it was going to happen though as she was fucked up and he just had to step back. Luckily for her, and unluckily for him, one of her previous attackers had kicked her nail filled toothbrush at her as she was walking away, so when Chula dived at her tormenter she managed to kinda cut his motherfucking head off. Well half off, but let’s not dwell on that. In throwing herself forward she got stuck in the hole in the wall once more.

“You fucking English bitches” Officer Mancuso growled at the bleeding head which was growling a lot more fiercely back at him through the hole in the wall “I liked that guy. I’m sick of your shit, I’m sending you back to your own hell hole country to get fucked up by prison bitches there”. It was a firm but fair punishment. The other choice was execution, but as Mancuso was the only guy in town who had a hood, he was always called upon to do it himself, and he was tired of the killing.

(i) Maria

The sun ablaze as Maria's foot touches the surface of sand, thinking of the world and all that’s underhand she stepped out of the truck and looked to the sky and the future. A silver bird flew in and landed crushing the ground beneath it and stumbling to a halt. She hated fucking Mexico as all it had ever given her was tequila and trouble, both of which seemed to lead to each other whenever one appeared. She was going to stop fucking up her life and others and just leave, for once taking the high road instead of just being high on the road. It had taken her months of robbing people and pimping out her own ass to save up the plane fare, but it was finally worth it. She was going to England. Not that she was that excited about it at first, but English tourists always seems pretty rich, so it would be nice to live in a land of plenty, at least for a while.

“There must be abundant fields as far as the eye can see”, she thought, “and human rights and equality. Well fuck all that, as long as I can still find a gun, everything will be alright. If fact, why don’t I just take this one with me? Seems like a plan”.

With that she ran towards the plane shot off the lock on the door and tried frantically to board. Wasn’t gonna happen though really as planes are quite far off the ground. Even when the pilot came to the door to see what was going on it didn’t help.

“You stupid fucking bitch, we can’t fly if we can’t lock this door. I mean it would be nice to have a breeze blowing in this little flying oven, but more passengers than usual would probably die”.

Maria didn’t like this uniformed prick talking shit to her, so she blasted his ass. He fell on the floor square in front of her, and like the little thieving monkey face she really was she started rifling through his pockets immediately for the keys to the plane. All she found was his passport, some bubble gum, and a photo of one fucked up looking bird. While she was gazing at the scar faced ho that was somehow related to the pilot, the polizia rocked up and pinned her ass to the ground.

“Trying to enter the country illegally were you? We’ll send you back to your punk ass country”. Officer Mancuso wasn’t very bright. He saw her holding a British passport and assumed she was an illegal immigrant, despite the pretty little Mexican chick in his custody looking more Mexican than Speedy Gonzalez. Still, he’d teach her a lesson. He liked that pilot. Well he didn’t know that pilot, but he’d seen in him a dress once, and he always meant to ask him about it, and now he would never have the chance.

Like a broken weather vain, it depends how you look at it

I’m a light weight. I admit it. Some motherfuckers make fun of me for it, but I quite like it. I can go to the pub and assure drunkenness almost every time. It’s a bit annoying if I gotta be sober for something, but those times are few and far between.

Especially this week. I saw Star Wars on Monday and it was friggin awesome. I don’t know why I’ve assigned that specific compliment to the film but it’s all I can seem to say when people ask me what I thought. Maybe it’s because it seems wrong to swear about something so intricately linked to my generations childhood. Aww fuck it. It was fucking exactly what I’ve been motherfucking waiting for. The acting was a bit shit, but they severed a lot of limbs needlessly so it was alright in the end. I asked a friend of mine recently whether he liked the film and he said “Nooooooooooo”. Didn’t you feel bad for Darth Vader?

I saw human traffic remixed on Tuesday. That was pretty wicked. I bought it ages ago but lost it and only just found it again so I was pretty happy to finally watch it. I hate it when that happens in all the usual ways, but it’s nice sometimes when you find something that you were beginning to believe that you never had in the first place. Especially when you find stuff in your pockets the morning after a night out. I usually just find toys though, and the surprise in that is only limited.

Yesterday I listened to a room full of people sing “You’ll never walk alone” over and over whilst getting drunk with my friends. That was pretty fucking great. I quit supporting Liverpool when I was young. It was just after they lost to Arsenal in that famous last game of the season show down. I kinda wanna start supporting them again now, but maybe I’m just a glory hunter. Or drunk. Or drunk with power. Hmm.

Today I’m going to bed early. Well at regular time, but I started trying to move my life towards my bed hours ago so tomorrow I’ll think I went to bed early. Ho hum.

Oh and I got a wicked job and I gave a wicked job to someone else. This has been one lucky motherfucking week. Speaking of weeks, last night I was in the 24 hour shop with a load of other drunk bastards and suddenly we all heard a voice say “Body found in the river every week! Fucking hell”. It was this little guy misreading the sign for the local paper. “The Informer” “Body found in river” “Everyweek”. I’ve never cracked up so much with a bunch of strangers before. I had to smoked two cigarettes on the way home to even myself out.

I really just needed some sleep. Sooooo motherfucking hungover today. Goes with being a pussy ass light weight. Oh well. To bed. Last refuge of the fucked.

The Drunken Bartender

Trains keep on going whether there are people on them or not. They don’t care whether they’re full or empty, they just wanna see other things and be other places, but they’re confined by parallel lines. People aren’t subject to such constraints, but if they’re empty on the inside they stop. Sven was empty and he had stopped. For a lot longer than he had ever intended too. But once his motion had subsided he realised that he had never intended to start moving in the first place.

“Give me two beers and a used ashtray” he said to the bartender who was more drunk than an empty glass.

“All my ashtrays are clean, but if u give me a moment I can help you out” he said while sparking up.

Sven didn’t really care, he just wanted to sit and feel like he’d done something. The bartender’s coughing broke Sven from his thoughts.

“You sound fucked up man. If smoking makes you like this then maybe you should stop”.

“Nah man, I never could stop”. The old drunk replied.

Sven smiled and remembered where he thought he was going and started again. All it takes is a parallel line.

This and that

Tonight was one of those nights where you can't believe that you are ever going to actually make it into bed. I mean there were ups and downs, but even the ups felt like they were going to last forever. In a good way. Well in a good way at the time anyway. Right now that warm feeling eminating from my feet is saying otherwise. As is that same warm feeling in my throat, although that feeling brings with it bile and disaster. Some people follow the theory that throwing up when you're fucked is a good idea as it makes you feel better and clears out the toxins. I think that as you can't feel worse than when puking, what's the fucking point. If you're going for the long run good by accepting the ultimate bad then surely the price is too high. Maybe nothings too high when you're that fucked. When you're this fucked. hmm

A New Hope

So I was born in 1982 right. Lots of exciting things probably happened that year, but my birth was the most important thing that happened in my life, so I’ll ignore all the rest. But anyway, my point was that 1982 is 18 years before the millennium, so it was destined right from the start that all people born in the same year as me would have a pivotal 18th year. Because it was the millennium. The big 2000. Something was bound to happen. Right? Wrong. Apart from a fucking great party I can’t really remember that year at all anymore. Pivotal?! We were ripped off.

Just like with Star Wars Episode 1. It was a crock of shit, let’s face it, with little to no interest to anyone except for children who wanted to play the racing game that I assume closely followed it’s release. Then Episode 2 came out and it still wasn’t amazing. I mean, I thought it was amazing as I was thoroughly less than sober when I went to see it and when Yoda does all his flipping about and shit I was motherfucking awe struck. But as I wasn’t seeing straight at the time, the pretty flashing lights were probably more than enough to please me. In retrospect however, it still wasn’t nearly as awesome as perhaps it could have been. So now number 3 is on the way, and I have to wonder if it’s going to be nearly as motherfucking amazing as it has the potential to be.

I mean, when I was young Star Wars was already everywhere. Everyone had at least one of the toys. Well I didn’t, but that’s because after my parents had seen the sad state my slinky was in it seemed foolish to buy me anymore. But everywhere you went there were Star Wars things. I grew up on the computer games. Not that most of them were any good, but it was a nice genre, an interesting story and lets be honest, a catchy name. Well I would have called it Space Bitches, but Star Wars is alright. So now, after our whole lives waiting, finally the last piece of the puzzle is about to come out. And it could possibly be the pivotal moment of my generations lives. Not that it will be. It’s probably going to suck ass like the rest, but it has the potential. It could be great. IT COULD BE MOTHERFUCKING THE BEST PIECE OF CRAP YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR WHOLE FUCKING LIFE.

Maybe I shouldn’t have such high hopes, but fuck it, what other inevitable event can I get so excited about? The 2nd of May 2006? I’ve based all my hopes for this year on this film. If it turns out well then it’s going to be a good year. If not, then I’m just going to give up and stay in my room til New Years. I’m terrified. I’m excited.

Actually, I don’t even really care that much, but I have a lot of time on my hands, and someone once referred to me as being the light side of the force, so I felt I should say something about it.

Bleugh

Isn’t being hungover nice sometimes when the pain has just gone away and you suddenly find yourself happy to be alive? I quite like that marshmallow covered monged out feeling. It makes the world seem clean and serene and kind of beautiful in an odd sort of way. It makes anything which you have the energy to manage seem like the best thing ever. Water finally seems as brilliant once more as the day it was invented.

Not that I don’t feel the pain of hangovers. I often think that the punishment for drinking is too severe, that maybe your body should just give you a break. I mean do you have to have dry mouth so strong that it can suck your face into itself? I don’t think so. Next time that happens to you, don’t go straight for the drink of water. Why not instead try a polo or other mint? It follows the theory of Making It Worse. Like trying to type when you’ve got a headache from being hungover. Doh.

Missing the point

So it's actually Friday the 13th now, so time to stop, reflect and maybe watch lots of horror films. Or something like that. Though not the Nightmare on Elm Street series as I’m still a little terrified of that bastard. I know it’s not reasonable, as he is basically a man with a pizza on his face, but when I was about 8 I watched all 5 films in the same day. Made me feel ill. But as I was watching it with my little friends and my brother, I didn’t wanna look like a sissy so I stayed and watched the whole lot. Gave me nightmare’s for years. Although I saw Freddy vs Jason the other day and that was pretty funny, so maybe I’m over it. Or maybe I just missed the point.

Like it seems that everyone else did with Billy Elliott. Now I never wanted to see that fucking film, let’s get it straight from the start, but everyone kept telling me how great it was. How it was really touching and how I shouldn’t judge it before I saw it. So when it came on tv one day and I was too lazy to change channel I watched. In horror. It’s not touching. It’s the story of one selfish little gay boy who ruins his families life so that he can be a dancer. How touching. If it was a little girl everyone would call her a spoilt little bitch, but as it was a little boy it was sweet. Apparently.

Just like that film the Full Monty. That wasn’t funny. It was depressing. Those poor out of work northerners who are forced to degrade themselves for money as they’re living in a economically stagnant area. Once again, if it had been about fat and old women stripping, instead of men it wouldn’t have been considered a comedy. It would have been considered shit.

I suppose the knife cuts both ways though. If Karate Kid 4 had been made with a boy instead of a girl then maybe it would have been good. Or maybe not. The special move in that film is dancing, so it never really stood a chance. Plus it would have cast a shadow of Mr Miyagi’s sexuality once again. At university I repeatedly heard the theory that Mr Miyagi’s relationship with Daniel-san was less than wholesome. I mean, he does say “Daniel-san, you complete me” but still, he’s a legend and therefore not a paedophile.

Maybe that’s Michael Jackson’s main line of defence. I hope not. It came out in court the other day that he used to make Bubbles help with the cleaning. He should go to jail for that if nothing else. Poor monkey bastard. All he wants to do is eat banana’s and pee in his own mouth, but no! Celebrity chimps lives just aren’t as glamorous as we think. Just ask Pamela Anderson. She refused to have a monkey in her new sitcom, as she knows how badly they get treated when they retire and demanded a robot instead. I want to make some sort of joke about silicon, but I really can’t be bothered.

So I’ll make this one instead. What’s the strongest fruit? The Sat Sumo.

Eastenders, everbody needs good Eastenders, with a little... oh wait

Ok, 5 minutes to Eastenders so I’ll make this brief. Not that I care that much about Eastenders, but with a 9-5 job generally meaning that I miss both episodes of neighbours, I need something to fill the void. Although I do like it. I only really got back into it, because I watched it with this Jamaican guy I knew in university once and he was totally addicted. When I asked why he said “I just can’t believe people live such stressful lives”. Now on it’s own that is a bit rubbish, but add the heavy Jamaican accent, and the impression of the Jamaican way of life that we’ve all grown up with on the lilt adverts, and it’s kinda funny. And it’s true. They’re little lives are unbelievably stressful.

Unlike my current job. I grabbed a nap in a cupboard the other day. That was nice. Haven’t slept at work in a long time. I once slept in a meeting by sitting behind someone with massive hair, so that anyone in a position to shout at me, couldn’t see me. That was a good day.

Unlike tomorrow, which is Friday the 13th. The number 13 doesn’t really appear to be unlucky in my life, as I’ve got a friend that was born on the 13th, and 2 + 5 + 6 is 13, but still I don’t quite trust it. The navy started the superstition apparently, and in an attempt to dispel it long ago they launched a ship on some 13th of January (12+1) at 13:13 with 13 crew members etc etc. Apparently they disappeared without a trace in 13 minutes, but I don’t know how true that is.

Anyway, 5 minutes is up.

Moo

So cows life’s aren’t fulfilling. So what? Cows are like big pods for processing grass and spawning more. They’re like single cell organisms but they’re motherfucking massive. They don’t really need to have fulfilling lives because if they did, what would they do with it? Stand and eat grass? I mean don’t put them in little cages or anything, but to think giving them any sort of stimulant to make their lives better would be purely a waste. They do create magic mushrooms in an odd sort of way, but I don’t think cows eat their own shit. Do they? How the fuck would I know.

I’m a member of Green Peace so I think my opinion counts. Well I think I’m still a member. I haven’t paid the subscription fee in a long time, but they kept sending me shit for ages, so who knows. I didn’t mean to stop paying, but I had to change bank accounts to open a student account and when I closed it, the standing order didn’t go across. Stupid fucking banks.

My banks (for I try to never close an account, but seem to have opened many over the years for many different odd fucking reasons) always fuck me over. You know when they do that thing that they fine you because you’re overdrawn, but you’re only overdrawn because they fined you or some shit? Happens to me all the motherfucking time. And you can’t complain, because you always have to call somewhere else and you don’t want to swear at the lady down the phone when her colleague standing in front of you has been so helpful. Goddamnit. I don’t even care about money in the first place, so stop making it so difficult to manage. I wonder who i could say that to, to magically sort things out.

So I only ever joined Green Peace in the first place because we were in London in some swanky jeans place or other and I was buying anything so I went outside to have a cigarette. It was fucking pouring it down so I went round the corner and stood in an alley and there was this guy standing in the street asking people to sign up for green peace. Only there were no people because it was fucking pissing it down, and he was just wearing a regular coat. So I felt sorry for him and went and signed up. I didn’t realise it was Green Peace until he told me, but I feel it was a good decision. Turned out it was his first day, and I was his first ever sign up. It feels good to give something back to the world.

What was I talking about? Cows? I can’t fucking remember why now. Oh yeah, the girl with the greatest fighting name ever is going to Mexico. Oh wait, I didn’t mean it like that. Oh well, whatever, Nevermind.

Do you think that Great Britain supports George Bush because we've got the same initials?

Anyone who joins the army is stupid. Signing up to try and kill or be killed by people you don't know, on the word of people you don't know saying that other people you don't know are bad is just stupid. And I know that it’s probably pretty stupid of me to be saying this as they are the one’s with the guns, so I shouldn’t infuriate them, but I’m banking on the fact that they probably can’t read.

Ok, now that was a joke. I’ve met many people who have been in training to enter the army or some shit and they all consider it to not be the case that they are just in it for the killing. They talk some shit about protecting people and bla bla. Why not become a security guard or join the red cross or some shit then? The army is a war machine, and if you join that machine without thinking that you’re in for a lot of killing then you’re pretty stupid.

Conversely, who cares if that war was illegal? Sadam Hussein was a bad man. He had it coming. He was screwing over his people on a day to day basis, so someone needed to kick his ass. So he didn’t have and weapons of mass destruction. He did have 200 PS2’s or some shit, so isn’t that enough of a threat? One day the Iraqi’s could have come over here and kicked our asses on Pro Evolution Soccer 4. That would have been a sad day.

But what happens if the Iraqi’s get mad and do some September the 11th type shit I hear you cry. Well firstly, it was clearly perpetrated by George Bush to give him reason to start some wars. Come on, it's been long enough now that we don't have to shy away from the obvious truth in case we offend someone. I feel sorry for all those who died and the lives that were ruined, but that doesn’t mean that claiming that different bad guys were involved than generally accepted is belittling their loss. When George Bush got in power, he was obviously going to start some wars. The Iraq thing was in the news before September the 11th, but no-one seemed to be getting on his side. What he needed was an atmosphere of fear of and distrust towards the middle east. Bingo, let a terrorist attack through the net. I mean, just think about it, if you were prepared to blow yourself up for your religious beliefs, then how come more stuff isn’t being blown up? Either they are pretty lame at it, or they just aren’t as terror-filled as we are being led to believe. Oh yeah I was supposed to have a secondly. Never mind.

I would like to also have a rant about the Asian Tsunami, but I’m not sure the world is ready to believe earthquake machine stories just yet. Conspiracy Theory was nicely timed so that if anyone does mention an earthquake machine, then people will think of that film and assume it’s to crazy to be true. But lot’s of things too crazy to be true are. Such as bumble bees being able to fly. Or George Bush winning the election in totally dubious style and yet people letting him retain being in charge of all those nukes. Or people telling you to vote in the elections because your vote really does count. It doesn’t count. Think about all the bad shit that happens on the news. The perpetrators of that shit get a vote. Think about all the smelly old people with odd views. Those people get a vote. Think about all the annoying, arrogant and just generally fucked up people you have met in your lives. Those people get a vote. And now think of all the people that you consider nice and reasonable in their view points. Not many of them comparatively is there? No. Well still, I suppose you might as well tick a box if you’ve got a bit of spare time. It’s always nice to rage against the machine, even if you know it’s not listening.

I love this time of night, when I feel good, and things feel right

Have you ever noticed that when fun comes a knockin, you're always in? No? Neither have I. But I wish I was because there's only so much fun to be had and if we don't all grab our share of it then we'll be truly fucked. I mean, god bless those gentle folk who live lives of complete boredom so that there is more fun out there for the rest of us. It is my fear, and I would expect that of many others, that I will one day accidentally become one of these people. As blessed be as I would be for sacrificing my fun quota for the good of the people, what would I do with my spare time? Maybe I would just sit down and tell people about it. Via the internet perhaps. Oh shit, maybe I am one of those poor motherfuckers.

See, that's why I was dubious about this whole blog thing in the first place. Blog. What kind of name is that? I don't know what it means and I really don't fucking care. It sounds stupid. Isn't it better to have a shortened name that sounds good but is made up of ridiculous words. Like NASA for example. National Aeronautics and Space Administration. So national is fair enough, but the rest is a bit pointless. I would have called it Space Bitches or something, but I guess SB isn't even an acronym in anyway so it's a good thing that I’m not in charge of the space program. Of any country. Wouldn't flying in space be good though? We should all go to space and be allowed the fun of showering in zero gravity. That’s got to be motherfucking crazy. They send apes, so why not me? I’m pretty hairy most of the time. I’ll pull the correct levers in return for peanuts. I somehow don’t think that anyone who could help is listening. Or if they are, I doubt they care.

Just like when you are on the phone to any company that has screwed you over. Although that might be individual to me, as other people seem to get refunds and shit. We had to send our girlfriends over to get us extra cheese in our burgers the other day. We told them that it was our first couples competition. How naïve! We were working as a team! Ho hum. It was just laziness so that we could get them to get us the burgers. Or at least that’s what I think now, after we were made fun of by our women for being too afraid to ask for cheese. At the end of the day I didn’t care really, I’ll just do anything for a slice of cheese

Someone told me today that what I did for my last birthday was stupid. Stupid is as stupid does I suppose. I remember in Amsterdam once, smoking 20 Marlboro red that we found all at once using an elastic band to hold them together. Oh no, that's right, it was 19 Marlboro Red and a Benson, because it was the Benson that really fucked me up. Now that was stupid. Now that I’ve reached that level of stupidity, I don't think I can pass it. It's like, because I’ve been hit by so many cars, I don't believe that one will kill me, as it would have happened by now.

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah fun. Freakishly Unusual Nights. I love them. I listen for that knock every night. It’s better than the sound of an ice cream van. I just had ice cream. I wish I could have some more. But I can’t, or I’ll have freaky dreams. Apparently. Or is that cheese? No it can’t be cheese. Cheese is too good to have side effects.

The Wind

You shouldn’t pull faces, because if the wind changes direction, then you might stay that way. The kid wearing no shoes pondered that idea more than any other he had ever been given, as he didn’t think it was just for kids, despite it only ever being said to them. Adults change faces throughout their lives, the wind changes and they forget that they weren’t that person until moments before. You start off thinking that you’re gonna change the world, but after the world has changed sufficiently without your input, you realise that maybe you can’t, that maybe you can just change your part of it. So you stop and try and change your life, and once it has changed enough to fit in line with the world, you no longer wanna change it. And you forget that you ever did. The wind changes direction and you carry on. So why not follow this wind the kid thought. He walked barefoot down the street to those who were waiting for him on the corner.

“This is probably the end”, he thought, “but lots of things that have a beginning never get to the end so this time I’ll give this story a chance”.

“Hey Jim, where the fuck is my money?”

Those words meant this wasn’t gonna be a happy ending, but Jim, who had sold his shoes to try and give these guys something thought fuck it. This wind has been blowing long enough. Time to change faces, so he pulled the coins out of his pocket and threw them on the floor at the feet of those questioning him.

“That’s all I motherfucking have, and that’s all that you’re motherfucking getting”.

Using motherfucking twice in a sentence has never gone down well, especially not in this neighbourhood, so Jim just stood there waiting for the inevitable shit kicking to come. Maybe he coulda come out on top in this situation if he’d thought ahead, but without shoes he couldn’t run, and he couldn’t kick, so there was no chance. Plus his exposed feet seemed like an obvious target as they stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. The four zoo keepers looked at the kid squaring up to them and had visions of throwing him to lions or tigers or bears, but something stopped them from moving. He had no shoes. He had sold his fucking shoes to give them something. That’s just too much for some people to comprehend. Some people as in people who had always just taken what they wanted and never thought to pay back what they owe. The wind changed and they said, almost as one,

“Ta Jim. Much appreciated. Now get back in your fucking cage, before someone notices.”

Spiderman, spiderman, does whatever a spider can. Dickhead.

I don't know how to properly explain my fear of spiders. The way I deal with them however, is clear. I kill them as quickly and cleanly as I can, then there's no problem. I don't mind really little one's, but any indoors, abnormally large ones or ones which get a web on my face deserve to die. The ones that crawl on you when you're outside is a split decision as it depends on what the spider's intent appears to be.

When I went to Thailand it was a serious killing spree. It was great as well because I had allies in the form of lizards munching insects everywhere too. That was until the jungle. I saw, well barely saw as the bastard had wicked camouflage, a spider that would cover my head if I walked into it. And I probably would have considering the photo's we took of it are generally thought of as pictures of us staring in fear into empty space as if a ghost or vampire was there and didn't show up on film. I wasn't afraid of spiders when I was little, but now I often dream of them or at least specifically one metal 8 legged bastard which can move really fast and turns up in any dream and instantly turn it into a chase b-movie. Damn spiders.

If there was a vote, people would blatantly chose to have all spiders eliminated. As long as the rest of the eco system could cope obviously. Perhaps if we wiped out enough other species, we could get rid of all spiders without forever damaging the sacred food chain. So.... they eat flies, so we could wipe them out too I suppose as no-one will really miss them. But then whatever flies eat would have too much breeding potential. What do flies eat? Shit? Hmm... well we certainly don't want any more of that around. Well what eats spiders? Birds mainly I suppose in this country. So if there were no spiders there would be less birds and more flies. The birds could eat the flies I suppose, that would even things out. Eureka! And birds have obviously evolved for this task, what with their fly scooping beaks and their ability to fly, so the eternal destruction of spiders is just the chance they need to try out their skills. See, that's what the election should be about. Real issues for real people. Like a mass extermination of spiders. It would be fun. It would be satisfying.

So why am I afraid? Well when I was young, my brother picked up a pair of trousers and then dropped them and jumped away because there was a spider in them apparently. I had no fear of spiders up until them, I had no opinion at all, but seeing him jump didn't fill me with happy expectations from this tiny monster. He made me pick up and move the trousers. I don't think the terror of the moment dawned on me until later, but it lasted. Hey I guess I could explain my fear of spiders after all. And without saying fuck at all.

You might be a king or a lowly street sweeper, but sooner or later you dance with the reaper

What was up with yesterday? There was something wrong with it from the moment I woke up. Not in a bad way, just in a Empire Record's Lucas "what's with today, today?" kind of way. I was out at one of my stranger friends birthday’s last night and all was going along as regularly as could be expected, when some random audience participation came along and freaked everyone out. We were at the bank making a withdrawal when these two couple from Essex walked by and the lady said very politely "Excuse me, do you know the way to Bond Street Station". Now we were all fucked, so I think a couple of guesses were made by those of us who gave any sort of shit, and we assumed they would continue on their way. However instead the Essex boy ducked through our little crowd of people to ditch his girl and sit right in amongst us. He seemed comically stressed so we gave him a withdrawal slip and thought that would be the end of it. But no, he just sat and whined about his bitch, who seemed quite nice, while she tried to get him to leave so they wouldn't miss their last train. Eventually she got him standing, and then for some reason, for his final act of defiance he climbed into a bin. It was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever fucking seen.

Speaking of weird things has anyone heard of a song by Anthony and the Johnsons called "I hope there is someone". Now that is fucking weird. I highly recommend it to all though, if you just sit and let it sink in, it's one of the most thoroughly depressing things you will ever hear. If you don't pay it much attention, it'll just freak you out. Either way, it should be in your music collection, but more importantly, I want it played at my funeral. My brother is a rich bitch lawyer and he says that if you say you want something done after your death and make it clear you are being serious then it counts as a will (as long as there is nothing over riding it obviously). So I want that song played, as well as Daly City Train by Rancid, and I want my two middle fingers sent to my two highest ranking arch enemies at the time of my death. And a quiz show in place of bequeaths, the questions to be decided by me nearest and dearest if I haven't got round to making any myself. Hmm.

I'm sure there was more. Not that I’m morbidly obsessed with my own demise, but I do seem to come close to death more often than most people I know. Once I had mad dry mouth and there was no food around so I ate this dry motherfucking biscuit which started absorbing the rest of my precious bodily fluids. It was suggested to me that maybe some gum would solve my problems (after another biscuit had been foolishly added), and before I could respond (it's hard to talk in that state) the gum had been popped in to my mouth. If any of you have ever eaten gum along with other food, you will know if fucks up in a very weird gooey way. In this case in just kinda filled my mouth with sludge, but as I was in posh motherfucking Chiswick I hesitated before spitting out the goo so tried to swallow first but the goo just kind of formed a seal in my throat and made it hard to breath. I went and bought a drink to wash it down, but foolishly bought some Frij Extreme, which is just about the thickest liquid in existence, so one more I made it worse as it just rested on top of the seal. Eventually I just took it like a man and smoked away the problem, but still it just shows how fragile life really is. Or how many times death has tried to kill me that he's resorting to such pathetic crap.

Well I suppose we all have to go sometime. Just not today, I’ve still got so much to do and so little time. I heard that within 30 years they will have invented the technology to stop cells from splitting and therefore making it possible to pretty much live forever. I’d like to live forever, but only for a little while.