A night in

Town has taken it's toll the past few weeks so i'm having a night in.

This time last week i was being threatened with death by some guys who tried to queue jump. I was warned that i could be "buried in 10 minutes" by some lad half my size who thought it was ok for him to stroll to the front of the line but took issue when i blocked his path and said "it doesn't work like that mate" He wasn't my mate.

If we rationalise then it's plain to see i'm in the right. I've queued up, they haven't. Why then am i subjected to varied abuse ranging from fashion tips to violent threats from someone i've never met before? This is a night out is it? Nice one.

Once inside i set about the usual routine of gradually getting drunk enough to justify a foray on the dancefloor. Up until this point i'll usually stand on the fringe of the dancefloor with tears in my eyes. Am i having a good time? I don't even know anymore.

Later on we encounter these 2 guys again. Both seem intent on shaking hands and forgetting the silliness from earlier. I'm happy to let it go but refuse the handshake. We all got in. We don't need to pretend to buzz off each other. My blunt assessment doesn't sit well. Moments later a pint flies off the balcony and lands on my head. Wonder who could of threw that.

They win. I'll happily walk away. I can't do it anymore. There's too many people in town intent on causing bother. I've decided i can have a better night sat in watching match of the day. But can I???

Tonight i've rattled about the house as it gradually emptied with each member of the family embarking on their own night out.

I've watched MOTD and arsed about on the internet. Spent hours looking at pictures of Mark Speight and watching Celtic videos. I've concluded that Mark Speight was crackers and that i want to go to a Celtic game. Preferably Vs Rangers. Oh and i think i've discovered a new favourite drink...Morgan's spiced & coke.

I've got nothing else to do at the minute so this is keeping me occupied as i prolong my night. Apologies for the lack of structure but there's a few other things on my mind......

At work i keep seeing a bike outside one of the entrances. For some reason the seat is missing. The bike has now been labelled "the dildo bike" I don't fully understand it. The bike is quite scruffy so it seems strange that the owner would deem the seat so valuable they remove it for security reasons. So it only leaves one explanation.

On the way to work i see a Lollipop man and woman working the same patch but standing on different sides of the road. I'm intrigued as to whether or not they indulge in typical work smalltalk. I don't think i'd bother. Do they shout across the road "have a nice weekend" etc? Fuck that.

I've came to realise that i'll never grow credible facial hair.

Of all the times you hear the phrase "bored to tears" you don't actually appreciate just how bad it would be to be literally bored to tears.

Imagine being that bored that you started to cry.

If some kind of magic history TV genie said you can view footage of one historical event not caught on film. Top of my list would be to see someone being bored to tears.

If i had 3 wishes i think i'd have to see what really happened with OJ Simpson and what/who went down that fateful night at Barrymore's

It's 01:44

I'm going to bed....goodnight.

Something i learned today:

People who lick the tips of their fingers before turning a page repulse me more than people who get to the end of a bag of crisps then tilt their head back and pour in the remains.

Oh, and i also learned not to lend these people my things.

A 45p newspaper wrote off before i even got to read it.

Happy Valentines day < 3

Were I seeing someone i'd probably get her some milk tray, tell her she's nectar and then put on "I don't wanna miss a thing" by Aerosmith feat Bruce Willis.

A Few Issues With The Postman Pat Specsavers Advert

It might seem like nitpicking but i've got a few gripes...

In the opening scene Pat gets in his Van and sits on his glasses, breaking them. Why wasn't he wearing them in the first place?

He appears far from concerned about the dangers of driving with impaired vision. Shrugging it off as a minor setback and remarking "duty calls", he drives off without fastening his seatbelt and crashes through a fence and a dry stone wall.

Pat dies instantly? Pat gets thrown from the vehicle and lays in agony picking shards of windscreen from his face? End of advert?

No. Miraculously he comes out unscathed, continuing his journey blissfully unaware of how close he came to the grave.

Once in town he stops to collect a sack of mail. Or at least what he thinks is a sack of mail.
Our hapless postman has in actual fact picked up a sack of miscellaneous vegetables. You could understand them looking similar but it's hard to believe his sense of feel could be so out of whack.

In further unrealistic scenes he then posts the vegetables through the Reverend's letterbox.(Defying physics in the process as many of them, namely the pumpkin wouldn't even fit)

How did he know where to post the veg? There were no addresses on them. At this point it becomes clear that vision is the least of his worries. The man has clearly gone nuts.

Last we see of him he passes a Policeman on the beat and follows a road signposted Calais.

Luckily for Pat, his care free attitude towards the chaos is mirrored by the Copper who rather than calling HQ for assistance merely quips "Should of gone to Specsavers Pat"

The ending is left open but i'd like to think he goes missing for a few weeks before washing up on the shores of Calais. Dead.

Make your own mind up.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfuLFBQTo4U

Corned Grief

If ever there was a headline that trivialised someones life....




Bob Wilson's son in law could of been the greatest man that ever lived.

But all people will remember is that he was "killed by corned beef"

Wouldn't food poisoning of sufficed?