Wednesday, August 27, 2008


Computer. Monitor. Satellite receiver. Desk. Microphone. TV. Lights. Tape. Handle. Paper. Remote control. Bin. Plastic cup. Speaker. Headphones. Chair. Jacket. Bag. Pen. Clock. Poster. Thermostat. Coat hanger. Mouse. Carpet. Blinds. Grille. Cable. Book. Memory stick. Door. Iffy.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


BIRD: Got my sleeping bag and the whisky and the spliffs. I’ll claim back the expenses, natch. I was gonna raid the cookie jar over by booth 21 but all the best biccies have gone. Bloody editorial! Greedy buggers. Bunch of shite buckets. For some reason, they leave the ginger biscuits behind, even though ginger is supposed to stop you having heart attacks. Fookin’ racists. When I look at a ginger biscuit, I see a thing of beauty. When they look at it, all they see is something that's the WRONG colour. Bastids. How soon can I escape? Well, my pal says I can go now… ish. Wonder what’s going on at the Olympics. Team GB’s doing OK but ladies fooked up the archery and the men fooked up too. Felt doozy just now. As if I’d sniffed the dishwasher. Which of course I wouldn’t, cos she’s too nice to be subjected to such inhumanity. But spanking’s not out of bounds. At a price. Stuff this. I’m outta here. Ish.