God’s a wily bugger isn’t he? I mean how did he manoeuvre himself into a position where he can be credited for all the good things in the world and still remain blameless for the bad things? Take yesterday for instance, when the bells tolled telling the relatives that the trapped miners we ok, they stood holding hands praising the big fella, singing hymns and generally acting like a bunch of Christians, but when, a short time later, they found out somebody had misheard and they were all, in fact, dead, the blame, logically, should have fallen upstairs. But I bet it wont, it will problem fall on the mining company (who incidentally had one of the worst accident records in Northern America, over two hundred separate incidents in last year alone) Now Im not saying that God killed those miners, but on the other hand he didn’t do a lot to save them. In my opinion God was working in the heart and the ears of the guy that passed on the message and dropped that massive bollock, because if there is a God he’s got one hell of a sense of humour and this sort of thing I expect real tickles the big weird sicko.


I have a date tonight, and im not entirely sure how one acts on a date, you see I haven’t been on to many, mainly due to the fact im not a fucking character in Friends. Since when did English people start going on fucking dates? Has our culture been so infected with the Americans that even our courtship rituals have fallen in line with the yank fantasies spouted by Sex In The twating City, Ally fucking McBeal and When Harry Met arsing Sally? Well I absolutely refuse to meet her at a “coffee shop” and im not becoming Tom bastard Hanks just to please her. Im not even sure I can be bothered to pretend that I’m a nice guy, well a “normal” guy anyway, and if she doesn’t know who The Ramones are, I’m walking out. To be perfectly honest I can’t even remember what she looks like, the date has been set up by a mutual friend and even though I have met her once, and that was a long time and a great many narcotics ago.

“Calm down” I’m sure your all saying “just relax and be yourself and maybe you should stop drinking?” well balls to that, how can I be myself AND stop drinking? It’s going to take me at least three beers to summon the will to get on the bus and bracing nips from Steve (my Hipflask) to keep me from running off. Anyway don’t see them as cans of larger, see them a big bullets of charm that I’m slowly loading into my gun-sharp mind. Yeah right.

More when I get back.

Ok she was prettier than I thought she would be, but the night never lost that awkward fear of the silence and me being me, chose to fill the gaps with the most inane verbal fluff. Also my default personality when nervous is a little bit spacey and forgetful kinda like a Phoebe from friends cross with Bill and Ted.

So we will see.