Nothing but rain and cold rain and then some more rain in the post. I always get sleepy too and shitfaced and anti-Irish.
Nothing to look forward to, except maybe the Laurent Garnier gig in two weeks but apart from that, nothing. Still battered and bruised and sightless from Front 242, but more about that soon. March always makes a little gibbon look inwards and this is not always a good thing.
St. Patsy’s day again. Fuck that Welsh-frenchy. Getting stabbed by stupid skangers sharing the same mobile phone and screaming Aslan songs isn’t my idea of a good time. Every time I see a skanky skanger talking upon un mobile this happens. His equally skanky friend grabs the phone off him after first waving his hand (which doesnt have a joint) in the air, giving the International skanger sign “I need to tell the bud sumthin importan, raaaaaaaabusaarrrrrrrhhhhhhhcrazywurldhhhyyyyyyyyytttttttttteeeeeeeeerobbiekeaneananyway.”
Where are these pests the rest of the year? Probably sitting in some underground Irish bar in stripy hoodies with their lord Christy Dignam counselling them.
“Don’t do heroin buds!”
All the while moving his stupid little hands in that oh so wavy stupid little way. If heroin could’ve killed anyone, I tell ya? Even if it had stopped him singing. Ah now stop Stretch, Aslan are alright, almost biblical. Leave em alone. They stay away from you and you don’t drink in the same bye-bye-miss-american-fucking-pie-shithole local bars as them (anymore). Leave it alone. Dry Up!
So there you go. I’m kinda tired and slightly weird right now, so I will crawl into my nest and finish the cabsav and lime, close my eyes and go to the land where all my dreams will come true….Tallaghtttttttttttttttttttzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz