Which side of me will win?

What the fuck are they meant to be?

At the risk of repeating myself, I woke up this morning. I’d had a pretty strange dream. So strange, I’m not going to detail it here. I went into the bathroom, stood in front of the toilet and popped my willy through the flap in my pants. I then closed my eyes tight and took a number of long, slow, deep breaths. Then I had a wee.

From there I did the usual things I do of a morning – muttering swears mostly – then set off to work for the last time this week. On the way I saw Andy crossing the road to his bus stop. Andy would not walk to work with me. The only two means of transport acceptable to Andy are bus and rowboat. I think he should row to work. He’d have trouble getting up Richmond Hill, mind.

My craving for Irn Bru struck early this morning so I popped into a newsagent in Lansdowne, which I remembered sells my favourite snack – yoghurt banana. Not to be confused with banana yoghurt, yoghurt banana is banana chips coated in yoghurt. I bloody love yoghurt banana. So I bought a bag of those bad boys and a can, just a can, of Irn Bru. I’m trying to cut down.

When I got to work I did work. Like yesterday, this was mostly writing, as well as a few e-mails and a bit of phone. Dave said an absolute beauty of a Dave Quote™ this morning. It’s not yet been added to the @DaveQuotes Twitter feed, but I’ll see if I can remember it by heart.


I think it was “When a woman wakes up in a ditch, the last thing she needs is a logical conundrum.” Pure gold, I tell you.

We get to go home at 1 on Fridays although I often don’t because I’m too busy, important, inefficient, gullable or stupid or something, and today was one of those Fridays I didn’t. The good thing about staying at work on a Friday afternoon though, is that the sandwich bar across the road (which also does a modest range of canteen food to take away) does roast ham and roast bacon on a Friday. I’ll repeat that in case you didn’t catch it…

Roast ham and… not or… and roast bacon.

I’m guessing it’s a Polish thing because I’m guessing the people who run the sandwich bar are Polish, but whoever’s idea it was it’s brilliant. Why serve just one variety of roasted pig when you can serve two together? Today it was served with peas, mashed potatoes and gravy. Nice.

Unfortunately, my plasticknifeandfork was not up to the task of cutting up the slices of roast ham and the plasticfork broke pretty early into the struggle. Fortunately, a spare metal fork lives in the office kitchen so I brought it in as a substitute. It probably has perma-lurgy, but fuck it, I want my pork!

I remained at work until about 4, whereupon I walked home along the beach. It was like a proper summer day with blue sky, sunshine and everyone milling around with half their bits hanging out. I figured this was unlikely to last long, so I changed into some shorts when I got home and went back down to the beach to make the most of the weather reading a book with my tits out for a bit.

I’m reading The Possibility Of An Island by Michel Houellebecq. I believe that’s pronounced like ‘Michelle Hullabaloo’, but that doesn’t mean you should believe it too. It’s a good book. Very early on one of the main characters compares stand-up comedians to gladiators. I was pretty much totally sold at that point. I’m near the end and I thought I might manage to finish it while at the beach, but my tits started to get cold so I came home.

No, I said I had cold tits.

At home I made another batch of vegetable chilli, as all my remaining vegetables are due to go off today. I now have enough to last me the weekend and beyond. Still nowhere near bored of it. It’s lovely. I might even post the recipe on this blog someday.

So I ate some chilli while watching a bit of The Gumball Rally, which is beautifully Seventies, on iPlayer then had a shower. That’s not actually true at all. I had the shower before I even made the chilli. Like it matters.

Then I did this. I think.


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