Does anyone want to do my dissertation for me? Not the whole thing. Just the stats bit. It's doing me head in. I tried to escape it by going to Manchester and watching TV with my brother for three days (there ain't no party like a Mulholland kids party cos the Mulholland kids party don't stop) but I come back and it's all still here. Looking at me. Doing my head in. A bit like Rod Stewart at EVERY SINGLE TRAIN STOP from Reading to Manc AND BACK AGAIN. If you make that particular journey don't sit in Coach C. Coach C appears to be where the train driver likes to be lined up with Rod Stewart posters. Whenever I loooked out the window there he was - sat there, legs akimbo, sleazing his sleazy look, smirking his smirk-worthy smirk, making me be sick in my mouth. Stewart - put it away. For the love of all that is good and holy. Put. It. A-W-A-Y. Or at least take a leaf out of Wogan's book - (ha! LITERALLY). (I crack myself up). All he needs is a witty tagline ['Warning: Contains mild irony'], a lifted brow and a whimsical look to camera. That's what captures my heart Stewart. Not you drawing attention to the outline of your cock underneath your tight, tight trews by crudely placing your knees as far apart as they will go like some cheap hooker trying to drum up buisness. Try and remember that next time mmkay?
Right, ok, it's nearly Christmas. I still haven't finished my Christmas shopping. I am now starting to F-R-E-A-K O-U-T. And not in the 70's disco 'le freak, c'est chic' way neither. Trouble is, I havent got much money. Actually, scratch that. I havent got ANY money (this may or may not be connected to the number of ridiculously priced gingerbread lattes I've been consuming* and party dresses I've been acquiring). But yeah, I want people's presents to count and to mean something, quality not quantity is the aim of the game this year. Only thing is; what the hell do these people WANT? I'm normally the most awesome gift buyer around. This year, more than ever, all I can see is stuff that appeals to me (this does not bode well for the state of my soul). See, these Wonder Woman coasters and Moomin snowglobes are not the sort of thing that everyone covets in the same way that I do. I KNOW! IT'S CRAZY! But it's true! And what's worse is that even for the people who I have got an idea about what to buy them I CAN'T FREAKING FIND IT ANYWHERE. Like, for instance, Papa Mikey (If your name is Papa Mikey stop reading now). I want to buy him some kind of robot building kit. Cos that'd be awesome. Who DOESN'T want to build their own robot? No-one! (Cap't B - I know you're with me on this). Everyone loves robots (as long as they are the kind that are not programmed to take over the world). We've all watched Short Circuit 1 and 2. We all know how fun it is to have a wacky robot pal to gad around town with. Yet can I find a robot building kit anywhere? No! LITTLE BABY JESUS WHY DO YOU PERSIST IN MOCKING ME? He loves making my life harder.
I fear what the brother is getting me. He keeps saying 'I hope it turns out alright' which for some reason has me convinced that he's been making me a macaroni-based collage. Although I did get him a Vin Diesel calendar last year so I suppose this would be what's known in the revenge buisness as 'payback'.
By the way, while we are on the subject - for Christmas can you get me Andrew Collins? He's my new-old hero.
*This does mean I get to see my two new BRAND NEW FOR CHRISTMAS crushes - Wolfman and Owlboy. They are actually barristas in a well known coffee providing chain that rhymes with barbucks* and not a new cartoon crime crusading combo.
*In 'Trev and Simons Stupid Book' that I have had since I was eight and still have (in fact I have two copies as I stole one from Andrew McGregor) they suggest that putting a 'b' in front of all words makes it instantly funny. I'm not sure bow buch I bagree.*
*To be fair, that does make that sentence more fun to say.
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