The magnetic board is to my left, covered in scribbles named ‘fishy’. There’s a yellow jug on the red table in front of me labelled ‘sweet’. Its so simple.

My flattie randomly bursts out crying when I sweetly tell her she’s old and wrinkly

there are drive by’s (but its okay – petrol prices are going up all the time, soon the mofo will run out and we’ll deploy pumpkins)

Bittersweet avengement abounds for me without me even asking for it.

I shall be working with naked (well, almost) men all day and I shall be happy and I shall feel important and I shall make up for the last 60 days of ‘shitfuckwhoreslutwhatarewegoingtodo’ing and we shall have wine and smokecokes and tiff chocolate. And SuperMoo’s for Moose. And Bubbles for the HalfPint.

Congratulations Me, its about time.

Congratulations You, for sticking through it all with me, and for being you. Even if you are only 2 years away from (GASP) 30. You old motherfucker, you.

The Sh@th is healthy, happy, homely, heffalumped & hysterical.

You think this post is random? You should see my life. If only you could all see it.

Dear God,

Thank you for randomness.



  1. sonnyvsdan says:

    seeing as we are talking about randomness, how are your potatoes?

    I asked that of a guy in the pub the other day, his response was simply “tricycle”.

    I think we’ll be friends.

Comments are closed.