I awoke this morning to the horrific tones of Norman Lamont, the ex Tory Chancellor of yesteryear. For those that don’t know of this cunt he was a 24 carat titurd with a wife who looked liked the underside of a cow pat, but with a blonde coiffure. In addition to being largely responsible for Black Wednesday he was embroiled in a typical Tory sex scandal by getting involved with a prostitute dubbed by the tabloids as Miss Whiplash. Just hearing his voice was akin to a screaming bummed-by-dad nightmare and I curled my toes until they were digging into the balls of my feet. To make matters worse it’s a fairly good indication that the Tories are back in vogue, this makes me feel sicker than a pike with gizzard cancer.
It’s a beautiful day, proper summertime weather, nature has shed itself of the immature pastels of spring, insects are beginning to lazily fizz into life and all is bright and sharp and outlined with clear cut blue, dammit all, it even smells like the summer.
Yesterday at work was lazy, in addition to it being warm inspiring dozy nothingness my mind was preoccupied by the thing that shall not speak its name (not buggery) and this particular facet of my existence is causing me a few of those mental wanderings, you know, when you’re doing something and your mind just gets completely drowned in itself and you just forg
Bloody Scarface. I didn’t go out last night, despite the sumptuous weather, and remained at home playing on the ps2. I’m stuck again, having to play the same bit over and over then failing at the last hurdle. I now remember why I was happy for the Playstation to gather dust the fucker.
It’s going to be a tough couple of days in the office due to the wotnot. The concern the gubbins trails in its wake isn’t linear, at times it’s okay, bearable even, but then it shifts itself into something more foul than Mrs Thatcher’s clout. Christ imagine that…
This is Ramones weather, a fine example of them in happier days. Only Tommy is alive now… Oh well, at least I got to see them a few years back even if you didn’t. Really, that’s all that counts.
May 7th, 2008 at 10:48 am
Which bit of Scarface are you stuck on?
May 7th, 2008 at 11:07 am
After the bit when you drop the boxes off for that fat ginger bloke
May 7th, 2008 at 11:57 am
Oh – that’s the last bit – you’ve won the game.
May 7th, 2008 at 12:00 pm
Thank
May 7th, 2008 at 12:05 pm
ye
May 7th, 2008 at 1:27 pm
Weather was bloody amazing yesterday. As it is today!
May 7th, 2008 at 1:30 pm
Why is there a fucking snowflake next to your name?
U H8 THIS WETHERS
May 7th, 2008 at 1:35 pm
wordpress/blogger/some other bastard has a random image generator now that puts pictures in for people who don’t have pictures, without asking them. Not sure where the fuck my image has gone…
But yes, the weather is ridiculously good. It’s like fucking Italy. Luckily as a language student, I am EXPECTED to go out and doss in a park all day. Toodleoo.
May 7th, 2008 at 1:37 pm
I’d even venture that the weather is better than yesterday. This truly is the day to own a sunglasses shop or a beach.
May 7th, 2008 at 4:29 pm
THE WEATHER IS HORRIBLE, IT’S HOT, SUNNY AND MAKES THIS FEMALE STIR FRECKING, CRAZY. ROLL ON AUTUMN, ROLL THE HECK ON…!!!!
(fed up with being cooked alive whenever she steps out of her black pit)
May 7th, 2008 at 4:30 pm
What the Devil’s arse is that picture next to my name??
May 7th, 2008 at 4:45 pm
Ha! Hardly a squeak out of you over the 10p tax debacle that fucked over the poor, the current economic crisis, the massive debts the government’s got our country in, the 3000 new criminal offences since 1997, etc. But a wally beats another wally in London, and you hear a Tory on the radio, and you’re spitting thunder and blathering about those evil Conservatives back in those evil Conservative days of pure evil (after the benign utopia of the Labour-led years of the mid to late 70s, of course). Keep that red flag flying there, comrade, Cameron’s shaking in his boots.
May 8th, 2008 at 9:42 am
Did someone fart in here?
OH NO IT WAZ NC BLOWING GUF ALL OVERS THE PLAICE
May 8th, 2008 at 9:56 am
Quality .
By the way you can turn the snowflakes off and go back to the mystery man sillhoutte. It involves taking 6 fucking hours scrolling through the arsehole of WordPress.
But without WordPress you couldn’t, rightly, tell 10 billion people that Norman Lamont is a total cunt.
Could you?