Normally I wouldn't give a flying fuck about his kind of stuff, ordinarily I'd just pass it by, cross the street.
But this morning I appear to be a bit pissed off by life, jaded? nay, but a bit miffed.
It's the Americans, of course.
Damn it. Why are they so full of themselves? They have no culture, no collective consciousness, and huge fat arses. I know, it's all been said before.
But do they really expect us to believe that a bunch of REPUBLICANS are seeking to bring DEMOCRACY to the wider world? Please.
It would be laughable if it wasn't for that flash of insideous, creepy lunacy that appears in Ms Rice's eyes when she talks of "helping the world to a better place". Evangelical republicism? Who'd have thought, and GW's watch as well.

"the music is your special friend,
dance on fire as it intends,
the music is your only friend,
until the end..."

Cue low flying army choppers and napalm explosions... ah... they don't make wars like they used to.
Remember those far off rosy days when if you declared war on a country it was on all their soveriegn citizens? When we could round them all up in internment camps for the duration?
And, more importantly, we could shoot, bomb, stab and bitch-slap the shit out of anyone of that nation without being dragged to jail or having our sovenir photos splashed all over the world press?
What it must have been like to be able to stomp on foreigners simply because they were foreigners. Now we have the Olympics, and football matches.
Which brings me to today's topic.
Liverpool vs foreigners in some distant scurvy land, tomorrow?
You see there's something fundamentaly wrong going on. They're stopping our previously convicted hooligans, sorry, fans, from travelling to the final. Which already means we're disadvantaged. Who is going to make the most noise at a game? A bunch of squeaky mammy's boys with nicely pressed scarves and a cup of hot chocolate, or a gang of seething skinheads armed with serious stabbing and stomping impliments and several dozen cans of foaming ale?
And... it's in some dodgy arse backwater, surely, as it's the European Final, it should be in the capital of Europe, England?

I just don't get it.

More worryingly perhaps the badgers have started close quarter harmony singing after midnight, it's not that their songs material isn't good, just last night they finished with a resounding little pop tune Kylie would give her right breast for, if she had one, sorry.
It's this post-midnight time plan I can't get the hang of, a time when any decent man is snuggled beneath his continental duvet dreaming languid dreams of a life as a FTV stylist... ho hum

...I love the smell of peanut butter in the morning.

Spent the weekend writing stuff for a wish-pitch and making a huge pot of pork curry. Don't know which was more futile, suppose at least i know something will come of the curry, if only arse-ache.

Spent some of friday with young Paul the Web and James the confused. Curiously, as neither of their ladies were present, they took up an inordinate amount of our conversation. And pizza.
Anyway, pleasant time, will have to make it more regular. Although the badgers get antsy when i'm out after dark.

My wandering Dutch friend has been in Brazil for a month where he once again has managed to impregnate a young lady. When I asked him if he'd heard of this new fangled contraception idea he brushed aside my advice with an airy "too fucking drunk..." Ah well, life. Still, he's been looking for a beach property for the two of us to retire to where we can have hot and cold running beer, women and by the sound of it, bastards.

Michael Jackson.

It amuses me to watch the Tory party in Britain squabble over which senile old twat will take over when the latest fiasco steps, or falls, aside. Too many people remember Maggie, and those who are too young would get bitch slapped by their parents if they swing to the right. and rightly so.

Ah well, Monday morning, my pool is bluer than a Tory back bench, the dogs are sleeping, including one on my desk which is a bit odd, God's in Heaven and all's fairly fucked up with the world.
C'est la vie as our pathetic French cousins would have it.