I survived.

   The week's been pretty mundane, the weekend was pretty lush.
   Friday night at The Rivets Club, The Electro-Possums play drunk to  crowd of some forty at what is basically a jam night but hopefully will become a decent music event monthly. I ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers, Paddy got me a Maccy Dee's and I got a taxi home with my bollocks hanging out.
   Saturday night was a party at Jesse's place for her 18th up in Newton Longville, bit of a trek to be honest, had a chat with the Marxist Glaswegian bus driver who has a laugh with me all the time and got trolley'd, as is to be expected. Half four in the morning I wake up to find some twat with a pole and no T-shirt on shouting about how "if [we] all don't get out here now and own up to whoever put Charlie's jumper on the fire and take it like a man then [we're] all getting smashed up."
   After explaining, calmly that Charlie "probably deserved it, he was shouting racist torrents of abuse at the only black lad at the party earlier and maybe he should just shut his cake hole next time" and even so that this was all "by the by because if you don't stop playing Tarzan so the bird in the conservatory can see waving a stick about and saying things like "I will defend your honour!" I'll be unable to sleep and thus, be a little bit grumpy, resulting in the hideous mutilation of certain areas of your more delicate body parts" he calmed down too.
   The world isn't built for those of us hovering over 6' but it does have it's up sides.
   So yeah, that was a laugh, got a lift to Bletchley of Jesse's mum, assumed that the buses didn't stop there for AY so got on one to MK City where I discovered I'd missed a bus by five minutes and would have to wait three hours for the next one, scrounged in phone boxes until I had enough for a chip butty, got the bus back through Bletchley -.-... and got hyem.
   After a heavy night and long journey, no matter how warmingly sunny, a shower is usually first port of call...
   I got naked, as usual.
   I grabbed the stuff I usually use to wash myself with, as usual.
   And slipped on my arse, sprained my ankle and put my right elbow through the wall...

No, I didn't have a fanny transplanted to my arm.

   Now, you know when people say "yeah, but you should have seen the other guy?"
   You should have seen the other guy.

The other guy.

   Yeah Roy, I fucked that tile up big time.

   The staff were very understanding when I took the camera out of my pocket though, and for those of you who haven't had this sort of thing done, go and injure yourself, local anaesthetic is the most fun you can have with a needle this side of heroin.

"This might sound weird but I write a blog and up until this happened I didn't
have a topic for today's entry, when you're finished, can I take a photo?"

   So there we have it, I survived 10/10/10, just about.
   Catch ye's next week.
- Nous.