Death and ...

I just had to do my taxes. Man did that ever suck. Especially considering that the only reason I had to do them was due to a month long accidental stint of being self-employed brought upon me by the ‘benevolent’ creators of Teachers TV. Those self righteous bastards couldn’t be bothered to do the little bit of extra paperwork necessary to put me on PAYE so instead I am going to be quizzed about my financial habits yearly for the rest of my life.

Luckily I don’t really have any financial habits. I only had to fill in about 20 of the 2,000 questions so that was nice (well I haven’t heard back from them yet, so I assume I only had to fill in 20 of the 2,000). The thing is that even though I had to fill in only 20 questions, I still had to read the other 1,980 questions to check if I had to answer them. And oh boy is that a motherfucking chore. If you have ever done your own taxes then you’ll know. It basically involves trying to concentrate really hard, and then screaming “BUT WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN YOU BASTARDS?” every 20-30 seconds.

And they give you this booklet to help you fill in the form. Now, I don’t know if it’s just me, but every question I looked up in the booklet for some help was even worse than the question itself. At one point, when I was particularly frustrated, I found that the booklets helpful answer was “It’s not too late to do your taxes online”. Those bastards. Those evil son’s of bitches. If I was going to do it online, why the hell would I read all this shit? What if I didn’t want to do it online? What if I hated computers as much as taxes themselves? Why would they say that? Why won’t they just help me? WHY? YOU BASTARDS WHY? ALL I WANT IS TO GIVE YOU MONEY? WHY WON’T YOU HELP ME? WHY WON’T YOU LET ME GIVE YOU MONEY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHAT ARE YOU GETTING OUT OF IT? CERTAINLY NOT MONEY AS I’M TRYING TO GIVE YOU SOME AND YOU’RE JUST MESSING WITH MY FUCKING BRAIN. TAKE IT YOU FUCKING BITCHES, JUST TAKE IT. AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH. I HATE ALL YOU INLAND REVENUE BASTARDS. ALL OF YOU!

So you see, doing taxes is quite stressful. Try to avoid it if you can.

Terror

I was involved in a serious spider attack last night. It came out of nowhere and made me remember all my fears again. Once the screaming had died down I still felt freaked out. Stupid spiders.

I was sitting at my computer, reading an email when suddenly this little spider slowly lowered itself on its web right in front of me onto my keyboard. As it was only small, I didn't panic, but said "Hey little dude, I don't know where you think you are, but right here is death for you". I got up and walked calmly over to the tissue box and got one out, ready for the big squidge. The spider was still ambling about on my desk. I just happened to be watching Dominic Diamonds Channel 5 programme about religion, and all this talk of God made me stop for a second and think. "I shouldn't kill you little one." I said "you're quite pretty I suppose, with those black and yellow stripes, and that huge ass of yours sticking up in the air..." I paused for a second with the tissue (which of course I had kept poised over the thing this whole time) and slowly moved back. THEN IT FUCKING LEPT ONTO ME. It was a good foot that it jumped, right onto my trousers. All calmness left the room at that point. I ran out of the room, batting my legs with my hands as much as I could. I dashed into the bathroom and tore off my trousers and socks and kept batting myself at any tingle I felt, and checking for a spider in the mirror. I wanted to take a shower just to make sure, but I couldn't stop wriggling and screaming like a girl. After what felt like about 10 minutes I left the bathroom and my trousers and crept back into my room. I kicked anything it could be hiding under then leapt back. I kept looking around my computer, even though I knew that it had left with me. I couldn't go near my computer for the rest of the night for fear. I'm not sure when I'm next gonna wear those trousers.

Stupid spiders. Stupid Justin.

Happy Birthday

Dear Lady Batchelor,

I am very sorry for missing your birthday this weekend. If you recall, I came to your other birthday last weekend and had a really splendid time, so I am very sorry that I missed this second soiree. Your first birthday bash was such a delight, that I have no doubt that your second bash was an equally stunning success. Without the ducks I would suppose, but a delight nonetheless I must presume.

I hope that fun was had by all, and that there was a whole lot less feeling poorly than the previous week. It is such a shame when the youth of today lets themselves down by over indulging in beverages and then proclaiming things they would otherwise not proclaim, and regurgitating things they would otherwise not regurgitate.

Enough of this nasty chit chat, and back to the main. Katy, you are a year older, wiser and prettier now. I hope that you are also a year happier too.

Best wishes

Sir Justin Scraggybottom

What goes on tour, stays on tour

A few months ago, James came up to me and said “So man, you still up for that lads night out then?” and I was like “What lads night out?” And he said “On the 2^nd of September we’re having a lads night out. We’ve never had one before. Come on, it’ll be a laugh”. Of course I was up for it, but at the same time immediately suspicious, as I had heard nothing of this before that moment, and because it was so far in the future it felt like something must have been being planned. And of course because prankster Whiteboy was saying it to me.

Then a couple of weeks ago, a very drunken Nick let slip that it was going to be my stag do, and that I was supposed to be marrying “some chick named Belinda”. After we had had the “but Belinda’s my sister you sick fuck” conversation, I started to get worried. Even more so when it turned out to be true by all accounts. We were gonna have my stag do, even though I wasn’t getting married. A day that I had always feared coming of it’s own accord and for no reason. Oh shit.

I kept on whining to Kathy about it. I was afraid what they might do to me. That if they had just planned a day to pick on me, that was tantamount to bullying wasn’t it? She said “If you are so worried about it, then why don’t you just not go”.

Once when I was out of my mind many years ago, I came home at like 6 am and thought all I wanted to do was to watch cartoons. But it was fucking early and I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I put the subtitles on and the volume down. It was some action cartoon or another, but I remember clearly the subtitles getting stuck after a while, but I kept watching for hours anyway. The thing is the subtitles got stuck on the line “What’s the point in a booby trap if you don’t set it off”. And to me at that time, that was the most profound thing I had ever heard.

And that’s why I had to go despite my massively unjustified fears. And it was a great day. Oh yes.