Another day and Mickey J is still a free man. I'm taking bets on the jury not being able to reach a unanamous decision which in California, means he gets off, home to have a light supper of Jesus juice and young boy's bottom.
Which is fair enough I suppose. Actually, I think he will leap into his huge car and zip off to the airport and then to pastures unknown, anywhere the dozy yanks can't find him. Which is anywhere outside of the U.S. as most of them don't believe there is a world outside of their dear shit-kicking homeland. And let's face it there hardly is anymore.

I'm worried about the badgers. Came home in the dark last night after a evening of gargling alcohol with young Paul only to find the badgers marching in the garden holding aloft placards demanding the dethroning and immediate imprisonment of Jacob Zuma.
Well, I was astonished. I didn't know the little dears kept up with local politics. Sadly i had to sit them down, over a small plate of various grubs and macdonald burgers, and tell them there was no chance of their wishes being granted now that his Uberlord mr mandela, sir, has come out in support of the pathetic vice-president. Boy these darkies stick together. Alternatively there is a certain faction who believe Zuma just knows where too many bodies are buried. Probably literally.

I'm currently setting up a Sunday lunch club for friends. It's supposed to be a sort of Breakfast Club meets Food TV, but i think it'll end up more of a Jerry Springer club.

My larger dog just farted, very bad, but then she looks at me like "you bastard", and moves away... maybe it was me? God self doubt is dangerous.

Enemabagjones is once again shackled to the holy advertising Rand at the dodgy Publicis agency, actually i'm quite jealous, it's one of the few agencies still run by alcohol and vitriol in equal parts.

Business-wise we've had a splendid week selling three new campaigns to 3 clients. Obviously that's why i'm so fucked off.
I need a holiday.
Wonder if there's any rooms going at Neverland, i hear they do a nice line in porn and rollercoaster rides. Weeeeeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh.

Watched "The Aviator" last night. Nice enough. But why do the Americans have to sanitize history?
The film ends just as Mr Hughes is going loony toones on us. So all the interesting speculation about how long he lived, where he lived etc was just left out and we got a lot of shots of dear old Leonardo doing his utmost to look mad. Which comes across as a kind of "Hey who pinched my coffee?" kind of look. The irritating twat who plays Spencer Tracy's main squeeze is really annoying, then again she was in real life so maybe it's just good acting? Fuck knows. Anyway, he was obviously barking and therefore deserves great praise as being that oddity, an american with a personality.
The schools in England are talking of banning mobile phones. Just because a few pansy-arse gits have been happy slapped on video. Good god, when I were a young lad, before there were proper toys that needed batteries, we were forever being kicked shite out of by our elders, from parents on down. Now there are laws against it, for god's sake.
I reckon those simpy lefties who now rule Brittania were all toyed with at school and are taking revenge by saddling the country with unworkable laws. I mean, how can you ban that cornerstone of english life, the happy hour? It's Un-British that's what it is.

And now young Tony is jetting back from G.W. land with a promise from the big Yawn to "give aid in African countries where we feel they deserve it". Well, thanks dad, can we have our pocket money early this week please?

Still, it does mean that that syphilis wracked Mugabe will once again be left with his dick in his hand. Shame about his people, but hey, that's tough love for you.

I think it's a crying shame that Howard Hughes never ran for office, at least you know where you are with a real fruitcake.

Something has been bothering me for a while now.
Sky News.
Yes I know, they win "best news prog" every year, but they're not a news programme really.
They are, of course, God.
I know they're God because everytime I force myself to watch them they are there, hovering above us poor normals, and, god help them, "The Media".
This is what pisses me off.
The Sky reporter is easily recognised anywhere, Mickey J's trial, the fall of Baghdad, the beaches after the Tsunami... there they are, and ALWAYS... they say this:
"Hi, this fat tart from Sky News being pointless and patronising from the scene of some terrible incident", (fair enough), but then..."We're here surrounded by a media circus as reporters from all over the world try to get a shot of the "body, hero, fat guy, famous girl, miracle dog" (insert your own here, as it were).

Do you see what I mean?

They are always refering to their fellow media jerks as "a media circus," or "Hundreds of the worlds' media"... implying that that they, our lords of the Sky, are somehow above the rest of the blood-sucking, Princess Di killing, shit sucking swine.
it kinda fucks me off.

In the garden the badgers are busy welding pieces of garden furniture together, but I'm pointedly refusing to ask them about it.

I often wish i'd been a welder, or a sparky, that's where the big money is... ho hum, should have known my careers advisor was lying when he sent me off to college to "round off my education".
Twat, probably pissing himself laughing, bet he worked nights as a plumber.

Well, I'm off to do some more work, just another ad man in a world of confused, wistful dabblers...

I've been taking these marvellous drugs lately as my Doc is of the opinion i have bronchial pnuemonia, again. Seems one of us is fucking up here, every few months they feed me drugs, not necessarily a bad thing, and i recover. But here's the thing, do I?
If so, how can i keep getting the same thing? Odd.
Anyway, basically these drugs lay you out like you'vebeen twatted by a skinny Manchurian and you spend an innordinate amount of time humming pleasant tunes to yourself and generally being very happy with general events. And then you roll on your back hold your stomach that appears to contain a bucket of razors and vomit copiously over anything and everything, sorry badger.
And do i breathe any better? Do i fuck. And i can't drink... as young Scott Fitzgerald once observed the world has a lot more greys and less colours when sober. I do not recommend this. Sobriety is for sad people who believe they can manage in the world and that their pitiful existence somehow is an example to others. Arseholes, I believe they are called.
A friend of mine in Frankfurt sms'd me last night to tell me he had hired a Porsch 911 and filled it with vodka and hookers. It's just not right, how can someone in Germany have more fun than me?

Ethelred the Unready. What was he unready for? Lunch? Life? or being saddled with a crap name?

Evidently Mikey J is having health problems before his up-coming stint in a US prison for bum fondling kids and making them drink "Jesus juice".
I must say he lost all my respect when I heard that. What sort of sad fucker makes up names to hide his drinking habit? Jesus Juice indeed, tsk that's Bad.

Still, if he's bound for chokey I can recommend some decent drugs to get him through it.