Out, vile jelly! Where is thy lustre now?

No.
THIS is it. THIS is the most tired I’ve ever been.
In an absolute jock so I am. What’s new eh? Grapefruit juice and Peach Schnapps together that’s what. It’s called a Gloucester, because it affects the eyes first.
I made it, fuck off you.
There’s nothing left in my skull cavity save a mere impression of a brain, an insubstantial artefact, ephemeral and impotent.
I’d love to give up the drink but it won’t give me up, such is the path of the alcoholist.
What’s that? You want me to drink you? Oh , but I can’t… Can I?.. ..mmm……brownest of browns…
G is for the rotting entrails in my gut, U is for the unusefulness of my mind, R is for the red eyes squeezed tight shut, N is for the nob worn down in the grind.
GURRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!
Watched big fat King Lear tread the boards and cover the less bombastic thesps in lashings of spittle. Never able to concentrate all the way through that sucker but tried really hard this time, even still I was confounded by the machinations. It must have been the acoustics. Which fucking one is Albany again? Too many characters, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it once. Highly enjoyable for all that though, and at the risk of sounding busy – Best Edmund Ever!
Been drinking hard, damn hard this weather, and while I’m not on the subject I don’t know if I’ll bother getting telly in or not. I’ve been quite content beavering away with intellectual and creative pursuits in its stead, and DVD’s, and gamecube, and, well, you know yourself.
So maybe I won’t bother my hole getting the cable in………oh wait……..Champions League soon………scrap that last.
A good ‘un in Doyle’s last night, Dr. Fell up to his old tricks, manipulating things from above like the marionette master he is. And Dockers up to his old tricks but the language barrier was all too much for even him to penetrate, ah Dockers, if you had pulled her I would have bowed down to the true master. In defeat, I can barely bring myself to look at you.
Later yet another titanic battle up Mountjoy way, I’m bruised and battered and wrung out and wasted.
But happily so for now,

I’ll keep going.

Oh, and Alexander is a good movie. Suck my balls General Consensus.

I caught you a delicious bass.

Relax, relax I’m still around.
And I’m going to be even more arounderer now that I’ve finally managed to secure some new lodgings for my lily-white ass.
Mountjoy Square, which is really an excellent name all things considered, is the new black this season. All the mod-cons and that bollocks, separate bedroom, nice roomy jacks, weird door to the Mobius continuum. The usual.
The landlad seems like a decent sort, I had to front jack-shit of a deposit and could take my pick of how regularly I wanted to pay the rent. I said in jest, ‘Sure we won’t bother with the aould rent for a while till we see how we get on!’
He stopped chuckling then and looked worried and you could see his face furrowing and his mouth bulging against the barely constrained ‘fuck –off!’ that was on it’s way until I clapped his shoulder and informed him jocularly that indeed I would honour his feudal agreement.
So the keys were slammed heartily into the hand and we parted with many a ‘Right so!’ ‘Hup’ ‘G’luck’ ‘Seeyagain so’ ‘right’ ‘take care’ ‘unintelligible noise of vague camaraderie’.
I’ll have to get a shady lad to hook up some NTL though, can’t be living with just standard wavelengths on the (amazing!) televisomatogramograph.

This new regime of solitude can only be helpful to my state of mind as now I can concentrate in peace to what the giddy little voices are whispering. It’s also a good, stress-free, haven for the philandertron 8000. Ah no, but seriously no……yeah. Ah. Well, no. But, hmmm.

So now you know.

What’s being going on? Divil a bit to be honest with you. Just thought I’d pop in and say hi. All is well with the psychofrog, she brought me back two bottles of farm cider from Brittany which taste, and I exaggerate not, like the very thought of sexual intercourse distilled and made liquid. MMMfffff.!
Right, enough of this!
When something decent happens I’ll blog.
‘Hup’

Time wounds all heels.

Xmas. What a hoot!
To be honest it all fizzled by almost unbeknownst to me. Great telly, ocean’s of booze, party upon party. I’m plum tuckered out. New Year’s Eve, for the first time in about five years, was actually good this time! It’s usually a pile of yakshit, most overrated blah, blah, of the yah yah, but it has to be said the Backlash boys put on a scintillating show. They excelled themselves when they played the one that goes eeeh oooo eeeh aaa ooooh. That’s money that tune.
When the clock digitally switched to 12.00 I vaguely recall bouncing on the seats swigging a bottle of champagne and gurning to beat the band. (Ehh….The Flying Pickets)
Then, despite making an oath that we wouldn’t all pile back to my gaff for a disgrace, we all piled back to my gaff for a disgrace.
I’d love to know what went on then but we were all in a jocker but it’s safe to say everyone was in good form and friendly to one another. Kip was had at about 11 the next morning, so New Years Day never happened, spent the entirety of that bad boy in World 2 enjoying the amazing wonders of the cinematograph presentations that my mind was providing for me just in front of my pineal gland.
So, I’m finally, actually and irrevocably moving out of D’aungier St tomorrow.
There’ll be a tear welling up behind the nictitating membrane let me tell thee. It was an animal location and its walls have seen much adventure, mashing, twitching and plenty of hank being panked during my tenure.
But all things pass and I’m eager to see what the fates have in store for the likes of me.
I like the sound of 2005, and the look of it too, it’s a dynamic sort of number, look it at there, so cute with its little boobies sitting snugly between a nostalgic two and a hopeful five. We’ll give it a chance so, but it’s got a lot to do to beat that bad mofo ’04. If it’s half as disgraceful as that then we’re in for a treat.
Onward and gee-ward.


Meltdown of the year – Oxegen.
Richard of the year - Richard Roche.
Motorbike recovery of the year – Simon’s moped.
Toothbrush of the year – My yellow one, the one I had before the one I have now.
Spider of the year – (Cancelled due to lack of entrants this year but special mention to the Very Big Moth which we saw in Italy in August. It was appreciably larger than a normal one.)
Elvis/Mummy film of the year – Bubba Ho Tep.
Gazelle of the year - Impala.