|
[09 Nov 2006|12:09am] |
Donald Rumsfeld is a fucking idiot.
I know that I know that we all know that, and i'll know a lot more about knowing about it a lot more after I find out a lot of things that you know that we know they know and then we'll all know a lot more about what we don't know we know, and then we'll know about that.
That is all.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|12:22am] |
http://youtube.com/watch?v=LudfQsviuw4
Oft forgotten dragon laden epic LOTR aping animated film Flight of Dragons. Three wizards and they had to call on a fucking board game maker to help them defeate the evil wizard Omadon.
What a bunch of tossers. Notable for plenty of atmosphere ridden scenes, big fuck-off dragons and a tidy introductory ditty from Don American Fucking Pie Mclean.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|11:13am] |
Urgh. It's not easy getting up on these cold mornings. Don't get me wrong, I love this time of year, I wouldn't say I didn't if I did, bear snares..but it's not easy creaking out of bed into them. Not even at eleven o clock.
How do you prove you exist? Maybe I don't exist.
Today is OAP Thursday, a day about as welcome a prospect as sawing a finger off with a breadknife. But hey, it pays the bills. It doesn't, it just is another shift, and a more pain in the arse one. But it's there and I have to do it.
See you later.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|03:26pm] |
Not too bad a work day, all told. Some late shamblers but nothing i'm not used to. I feel a little more energetic today than I do normally, perhaps it's the whisky I had last night. Maybe it has less of an effect on me than Murphys, we'll see. I'm going to try and lay off smoking too.
In a moment, the best song ever made.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|03:34pm] |
This is my favourite song ever, and about the only one that drags real tears from me. Genuinely. It's a gentle wind that turns into a crescendo. All about the death of a loved one, it's a beautiful and subtle lyric that hits, and hits hard.
In the back seat - The Arcade Fire
I like the peace in the backseat, I don't have to drive, I don't have to speak, I can watch the country side, and I can fall asleep.
My family tree's losing all its leaves, crashing towards the driver's seat, the lightning bolt made enough heat to melt the street beneath your feet.
Alice died in the night, I've been learning to drive. My whole life, I've been learning.
I like the peace in the backseat, I don't have to drive, I don't have to speak, I can watch the country side
Alice died in the night, I've been learning to drive. My whole life, I've been learning, Oh Norah!
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|03:59pm] |
St George and the dragon were out on the piss, they shared beer, cigars, and a midnight kiss, at five am george looked at his watch, and said "CRIVENS DRAGON!", it's almost time to go, back to our home, and finish off this port, the dragon was busy, and being sick, and flames mixed with vomit they started to lick, George's pale face, it has to be said he was not, altogether pleased, especially as it contained peas, "don't get it on the carpet!" he pleaded, but the dragon was too pissed for the call to be headed, off they headed home, being chased by a bloodhound, keen to the scent of booze on their persons, as they passed the hotel porter, he grinned, "that there dragon and Saint" he said, "have doth sinned", pissed all night, they'll be on the slide, and old George will be too hungover, to seal the dragon's demise.
|
|
| The name's Hell. A-O Hell. |
[09 Nov 2006|04:27pm] |
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|04:57pm] |
she sees nothing but black, in my eyes, I see nothing but red in hers, not a gentle rain falls, in the back of her mind, no semblance of a melting ice, in mine either, down the arteries and veins go, little crystal drops tell me my river is freezing up, and nowhere, nowhere, is there a space to keep her heart safe
|
|
| It's crap, but it's all I got, see? |
[09 Nov 2006|04:59pm] |
One of the worst jobs i've ever had to do in the Bell Inn is bin emptying. They're a pair of plastic flip lidded things, big enough to put away all the rubbish that we go through during the course of the afternoon, not big enough or strong enough to apparently contain it.
Disaster well and truly struck one day as I went to empty the accursed thing. It had been a particularly rushed Friday afternoon, and the weather was balmy, hot and humid in the kitchen. As I groaned reluctantly to the bin to tie up the bin bag I let out a wretched and weary sigh as I noticed from the off that the bin was open, the bin bag crammed with more rubbish than a Westlife album, and spilling it's mucky contents onto the floor. I attempted to tie up the sack. It was so full that doing this was impossible. Andy told me to just take the entire bin outside and tip it out into the skip.
Being a stubborn and determined but foolish man, I elected to attempt to try to empty the holed bin bag inclusive of contents into a fresh black plastic sack. These things were apparently made out of a plastic thinner than a Eunich's little black book. I got the bag out of the bin okay, and into the new bag okay, but the new bin bag split, dispensing old bits of cabbage, bread rolls, chicken skins and all scattered like a garish and sticky lava, all over the floor, some seeping over my shoes and into them too. I half felt like bashing my head against a freezer when Andy said..
"Told you you should have done what I said."
And that is the worst job i've ever done. I think.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|05:16pm] |
If they read them in the fucking magazine:
Artichoke Express. The mucky death of Girl's Aloud. Pornutopia. The Freak's Bell End. Shit Choir. Tip Top Tom's Titfest. Cranky? NO! The last time we ever felled the grape tree. Funzone FuckWipers. Pollock's Bollock. British Squadrons. Cake O Layers. GrandfatherMotherFucker The lacy Twix. Apple and the ever-loving weepers. Tidy Train. Carcus Heaven. The Carrion Dragons. Winsdcreens. Book of Bombs. Greet me with a sailor The expulsion of Simon. Colostemal Bostons. Tarantula Sunday. My shit's an elbow.
|
|
| An open letter to dog dominatrix Victoria Stilwell |
[09 Nov 2006|05:29pm] |

Dear Victoria. I would like to apply for the post of being your bloke, as I think i'd be quite good at it. I'm quite slender and taut, like one of them greyhounds that you probably have taught stuff, i'm good at learning tricks, and I have a massive bone for you to hold on too. Well, not massive. Average, really. I'm quite passive, which is good because you wouldn't have to spend much time getting me in line when you have to be off sorting out dogs. I'd eat out of a bowl and pant into your crotch. Just like a real dog! And my name is the same as yours, so it makes marriage easier. Plus, you can keep me naked in a kennel and tickle my nuts.
Yours, Phylly boy.
P.S My favourite dog is that one that stares about arbitrarily and barks at nothing at all.
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|05:44pm] |
Twice today i've been shunted, out of my thoughts, by the rocking train.. is it my stop? is it time to stop? no...
time for a little more thought.. let it last, let the rattles fade away, and the beating of my heart lay thick.. in the carriage..
thwack, there goes the sidings, there's the route changing.. we're not going there, and i'm dreaming still in here..
no..no time to dream.. i'm getting off here, clutching my ticket in my hands..
i'm not getting off there, please let my thoughts last... till the end of the journey
|
|
| Frasier. |
[09 Nov 2006|06:17pm] |
FRASIER:
INT: Frasier's Gaff
Martin: Hey Frase! How's tricks?
Frasier: Not very good. You know that date I had?
Martin: Yeah, how'd that go?
Frasier. It went shite. She turned out to be a drawing on a wall, in an alley. It was so convincing I had chafing and chalk all over my penis my the time the cops arrived. They thought I was rubbing smack on my cock and charged me!
Martin: You mistook a chalk drawing of a broad on a wall in an alley.......for a real woman?
Frasier: OH C'MON DAD I MARRIED LILITH!
Martin: I can't believe this. Put your penis away, son.
Frasier: FUCK OFF!
|
|
|
[09 Nov 2006|06:52pm] |
Ah, the sweeping soaring sounds of Rachmaninoff, from 1945's Brief Encounter.
An eye watering shiversome piece. I'm off, pissers. Smack it on the kissers, i'll see you later with the blisters.
Bye for now.
|
|