Oh there’s so much to choose from. But I have chosen. Oh yes. Now, only the slightly easy task of persuasion now:
1) Cascada
2) Tori Amos
3) Dougal & Gammer
4) MIchael Woods
5) BBC Symphonic Orchestra On Crack – Playing “Wowowoutdshglsdhgoiywetoy and shithityhwoureoweyuytu fuck arse!!!!” in e-minor.
Very early this morning when I usually get up to have the usual ablutions, shower and dressing etc, my lovely French compatriot decided to spend a whole fecking hour in the bathroom. Probably with some sort of hedge-trimmer.
And I really needed a wee.
Really. I did.
REALLY needed one. I CANNOT STRESS THIS BIT ENOUGH!
I ran downstairs to my landlord’s bathroom. Oh noes! He’s having a poo!
Effing hell!
So run back upstairs and decide to grab my trusty pint glass and relieve myself.
Ahhh…..
BUT OH NOES! Too much now! OMG!
Let’s just say I had to be very slow and careful carrying the glass.
And then there was the Tram…..
FFS.
OMG.
I give up.
Er, no.
Unless you want even more halal chicken shops and barbers open until 3am.
"I will make London a beacon of islam"
From the tax-dodging hypocrite supreme.
Oh and lower fares on London Transport? Er, I think the facts speak for themselves.
Anybody voting for Ken is a fool. I pity the fool.
Yo!
So, who then to vote for?
Brian Paddick? No, he’s a Lib Dem so will want to Climate Change Your Ass as well as instigating compulsory anal sex, while dressed as a Metropolitan Police officer!
Jenny Jones? Green? Er, enough said. A bit like Paddick but with less forced anal sex. But more windmills and tofu.
Carlos Cortiglia – BNP. Good British name there for the Uruguay dude. Er, no. BNP = wankbiscuits.
Lawrence Webb – UKIP. Decent chappy. No chance of winning though.
Boris Johnson – Tories. Mental hair. Current incumbent. Bit of a mental tosser. But he’s not as bad as the fuckwit Ken. I honestly think nobody could be – well, perhaps the Yogic Flying nutters.
Talking of which: Ken Livingstone – Labour. Fucking hell. No way. Complete hypocrite, anti-semitic mental wanker. Oh a liar too. Tax dodger and newt fucker (poor things split before he even gets the jollies on!). You want a man who fucks newts up the arse to control your tube? (no doubt he’ll be very keen to see lots of anal sex for small animals and pre-pubescent children) He’s so far up the unions arse that he can see out of their collective and deluded arse.
So, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this bunch of useless twats? I think I’ll write the following letters in my ballot : “WANKS!” or something like that.
Right, that’s enough libel for tonight.
Vote carefully people! It matters!*
*not a fuck, because we are all doomed and ruled by the EUssr anyway.
Went along to what is called “The Quays” on Saturday night with my wonderful girlfriend Clare, and her sister and some friends.
This is me:
I happen to be wearing flashing Irish bunny ears for some reason. And that’s a pint of beer of some description. Not sure what time this was – possibly around 11 ish. The place was rammed something stupid. You could hardly move your eyebrows without bumping into some mad person in a green shirt. Lots of hands shaken after saying I was from Glasgow, which is nice. Pity Ireland lost against England at the rugby. But, on the bright side, Clare looked ever so sexy in her Ireland top. Mmmmm!
Anyway, I quite enjoyed the tazering (that’s what I call what purports to be dancing). The two live bands were excellent. Clare is the most amazing dancer you have ever seen. She is _so_ good! I’m not understating this: she is FUCKING AMAZING!!! She’s got style, the moves, the lyrics, the action and my ever-lasting love for being such, well, lovely and snuggly and wonderful!
After exciting taxi ride home (where one of the occupants was in desperate need of a pee) from Archway down to Norbury then onto Addiscombe, ended up collapsing in bed around 2am. A little earlier than expected.
In 1981 I was quite a good and keen swimmer. Represented my school at the back-stroke. However, having just been getting over the flu, I was only able to do a miserable 16 lengths….
What a moustache! He must’ve been from Donegal! Anyway, I recall him doing a whole 25m length in about 6 breast-strokes. Awesome!
