Then it's the weekend again and somehow every frigging hour has been booked to be somewhere or do something... sheesh. And most of its crap too, people talking shite about shite coz they're full of shite.And here they come again the world's most boring couple, my mother used to say that only boring people found people boring. Well that's just shite too. If she'd met these two she would agree, they could bore for the world in the intergalactic boring competitions on Saturns twin moons in August. Christ they are so dull they must be in I.T. any minute now they'll be talking about Compaqs or motherboards or some such startling crap. Yesterday one of them told an I.T. joke, ho ho how we all laughed and rolled in the aisles.... I had to hold my side it hurt so much. Then we threw him to the floor and kicked seven shades of shit out of him.

what is it with women anyhow? Why are they so girly? All I said was you've got quite a nice arse for such a fat chick and"bang" off she goes, her mouth moving faster than a bog door when the plague's in town. Jesus she can talk, yabber yabber yabber.
So, just for a joke, I throw my beer in her face.
This stops her for a minute, but then she's off again, ranting on about how I treat her and all the time I'm watching the beer run over her prominent breasts and imagining them rubbing in my face.
So she notices me looking and smacks me over the head with the TV remote. Now I can take a little rough and tumble as well as the next guy right, but I've just fucking fixed this remote and now she's cracked the whole thing again and the TV will be stuck Cooking channel for weeks coz I'm never gonna get the energy to get out of the chair, drag my arse right across the room to change channels manually.
So I mention this to her in my loudest voice, while digging my fork into her podgy hand. And then I tell her I'm off to the pub and will be back for dinner.
Fucking women.

woody allen once said that if he had breasts he wouldnt go out at night he'd just sit at home and play with them. Then of course he changed his mind and meant if he had step daughters... ho hum. Change is a good thing, we should welcopme the angel of change with open arms into every corner of our life. Alternatively we could take the devilish little bastard and nail him to the wall by his groin, stopping only to superglue his foul mouth and weld his fists up his arse. Just a thought.

Well, I riding down the road on my way to pursue my blosoming career when the woman in front of me slows down from 90 to 40 for what seems to be no reason. Of course as I end up virtually in her fucking back seat I have a ringside view of the cause. She had to slow down to comb her snotty nosed son's hair. Never mind that she's supposed to be in charge of three tonnes of hurtling metal and a tank of volatile fuel, oh no, skanky kid Johhny's hair is a tad out of place, what will the teachers think? She's just oblivious to the idea that the little twerps' head could come off as he shoots through the windscreen and her perfectly arranged blonde head would get a trifle mussed up in the multi-car pile up that she could easily start. God Fucking Damn, where do these people buy their licences?

a petite young thing comes through a door towards me, she is speaking fluent, sex driven french to some ugly french bitch. She stops and smiles at me,says, "hi, Ian, come through". And leads me to her boudoir. Or, to her chamber of horror. This calm young lady is surrounded by tools of the worst type. Spikes and drills, buzzing things and forcing things.
She straps me to the chair, I wish, then proceeds to drill into my head. Once she's done this she takes a tiny file the size of a pin and slides it into the exposed root of my once happy tooth. She saws it back and forward, slicing through nerves and enamel, remember here that enamel is hard, fucking hard, so this thing is sharp, and very pointy, and very very painful.
She stops the change file size and pull me back off the ceiling, muttering soothing words of comfort. And we begin again, bigger file, bigger hole more screaming and spurting blood. It's starting to look like Alien 4.
A measley hour later she's finished. "It will be quite tender for a week or so," she understates, helping me hobbling from the room stopping only to alieviate my credit card of a substantial amount.
Then it's back to work where mr enimabag jones is beside himself with disbelief that i can still be in pain... hmmm..... hanging is too good for some people.

silence, so they say, is golden. well that's just crap isnt it. Silence is painful. Silence sucks. When you cant speak people think they can be funny to you, about you, around you. People don't realise that you wont be silent forever. hahahahaha

well, what do the words root canal treatment mean to you? Fear I would suggest, and loathing. and pain, blinding white heat pain accompanied by schreeching drills and mumbled apologies. Marathon man. Evil stares at women in white coats as they savage you into submission. Ouch indeed.

and, as young prince used to say, before he became a squiggle in our collective psyche, "aint it funny no, when a rocket ship explodes, and everybody still wants to fly..." boy, what a prophet....hang on he looks a bit like osama..... hmmmm the plot thickens

and then, just when you think it's all going to be okay and we'll all end up sitting on our rocking chairs like grandpa walton, Mr fucking I'm so cool Blair flies off to Paris to meet the French twat and try and convince them to try and fight properly this time, sheesh there's more chance of convincing the Italians not to change sides and stab us all in the back, again.
Bad enough he spent the weekend kissing Mbeki's sorry arse. Good god man, be a man. If you want a war go start one. Bastard Labour wimps, we never had this problem under dear old Mrs Thatcher.

and another thing, why do all the wankers drive small white cars? Is this a dick thing? Every morning it's the same, driving down the road and there, two inches from my arse, is a small dented white golf or some other dinky car. Revving it's engine, grinding gears and generally behaving like the world's biggest tosser. And then, if you're unlucky enough to get talking to you in a bar, they tell you how they are great drivers, too much torque not enough action matey.

here's a thing, wherever you go don't stand next an israeli. Let's face it they just go around blowing up. Take the weekend for example, now where could be safer than 32 miles up in the air, you would think. But no, you go and put an israeli up there and BOOM...

so, anyway,

well, fuck me that was easy.