Come Back Around

"Watching the film will be enough to cause your eyes to sprout hairs"

Yes, Comrades

You currently find me spinning a spinning top I was surprised with in a Kinder Surprise. Their big thing in the 90s was that it was three surprises in one. I spent many an hour trying to comprehend that one. Surprise #1: brown chocolate on the outside, white inside. Ok, fine, you can have that, wacky German bastards. Or whatever they are. Weird anyway. I'm joking please don't sue me. Surprise #2: the toy. Hmmm, yep, plain sailing so far. And of course here is where we reach our conundrum. Where's the third one? My wisdom over the years has told me the third surprise is that I've wasted all that fucking time try to work out what the third surprise is. I would very much like Kinder to sponsor my life support machine or at the very least pay for my funeral and gravestone as repayment. I will have one small request for them: have it carved onto my gravestone "Jesus Christ is that the time already?" or better still - put in extremely small text (so the reader has to waltz right up to it to read it) "You're standing on my testicles"

So, The Hobbit eh? Martin Freeman, Benedict Cumberbatch and Billy Connolly in one film? Christ, can you feel the manliness coming off that sentence alone? I will be going to see the film, of course, on one condition: there are at least three montages of those three lifting weights together. The potential for bromance is incredible. I imagine watching the film will be enough to cause your eyes to sprout hairs and if you're brave enough to watch the two films back to back you're sure to die of testosterone poisoning. La, so many bronouns flying around, I think I'll stop going on right now, I've said enough.

If you like that Call Me Maybe song, you're a fucking idiot. Whatever that useless chick's name is, the headlines are 'Justin Bieber's latest Canadian import' I mean, how much more do you need? A contestant on Canadian Idol. All these folk go on X Factor with a Pete Doherty haircut and reckon they've got a bit of attitude. You haven't got attitude mate, otherwise you wouldn't be on a fucking talent show would you? X Factor...that's wrong as fuck. Every winner only lasts about...six months, then they end up in rehab. That's very interesting - to see some fat idiot from Tesco convincing themselves that they're some kind of superstar. Take any one of them, any one, and I fucking guarantee this is how it'll go. "Got any songs?" "Well, not really..." "Oh" Then they realise that actually they're a fat idiot from Tesco who had one lucky day and was Simon Cowell's puppet til he got bored and cut the strings. Next they turn to drink and drugs and end up killing their own gerbils. That's amazing, but X Factor? X Factory is much better suited. Not music.

In a bit

SD

The following is an excerpt from my Australia Journal 2008-09. Are you wanking? Are you wanking, right now? Will you get a stunning blog like this by fucking wanking?


Sunday 28th December 2008

I've made many mistakes in my life. Today I made one more. A big one. I went to the beach again. Its waves were higher, the crowd was greater, but my skill level stayed consistent. I felt more sand in my lungs and more paranoid humiliation. Then onto Surfers Paradise. A seedier area with nightclubs, strip clubs, condom shops and thunder and lightning to boot. They echoed into my already damaged-from-drowning ears. I seem to be running out of space. Good. All that followed was an evening alone for six hours eating pizza, burning discs and watching 8mm at last. Quite a lonely existence here. I felt fine this morning, but night falls and I must be a lunatic.
"Spinning through, the echoes round the sun"