Most of this week I've been sitting in offices curdling ideas... clients are so careless with my little babies, but at least I don't have a fat fucking Wop standing over me believing he has some useful input except sweat.

I'm suffering from nowhere to hide...the perils of working for yourself.

I wonder whether this is all worthwhile or should i return to corporate work and get thoroughly shafted again.

God I hate fucking kids... always have, even when i was one, especially when i was one...but they're getting worse...nasty little fuckers.

Woolworths Pork Sausage sandwiches on white bread with brown sauce.
OK, so it’s not nutritional, and it’s not attractive, but it’s fucking nice…

I have a client who called my work crap, so I called him a twat, and he called me a bastard… this could have gone all day but the grown ups in the meeting had gone a nice shade of cerise. Afterwards they asked what I thought I was doing. “Working up to Cunt actually” I replied.

I see the Yids are at it again. So they appeal to the UN about those smelly Arab rag-heads blowing up bus loads of their big nosed kids. And use the UN’s disapproval to make farty diplomatic noises in the USA.
Then the UN declares the world’s most ugly wall a general bad thing, and the Yids say they have no jurisdiction. Urrrr hello…

Anyway there is a certain irony in the fact that the last big smelly wall to divide people was started by those marvellous Yid cuddlers the Krauts…

Tentatively I got out of bed this morning, fearing the worst I
glanced out of my window.
Damn.
Another fucking day had started and there was no going back.

Drivel, the curse of my life is people thinking I care about
their tiny little lives. Or them. Or anything but myself.
Cunts the lot of them.