.'Jojoba' is a fucking great word.

(Fingers between lips) "Ooohaflabublabflubafluh".
Big fish little fish cardboard box.
Whooh! Wharghooah whoo!
(Poised like a cat) "langer!"

Seriously though, this is not funny anymore. No, no not the blog - oh alright then neither is the blog. Who am I to know? You don't ask a spastic about his thoughts on Descartes either, do you? Yeah, well, next time keep a lid on it, fool.

A Husky incisor accidently knocked against a knuckle while play-fighting fucking hurts by the way. Huskies do not fuck about when they play. Like any decent being. 'Avin it.

So anyway you've already guessed I'm spending another day shuffling around and eventually drinking, disappointing the dog who thinks I'm a total wanker for play-fighting for two minutes with one arm and stooped like a motherfucker. Fuck him anyway, the beautiful cunt.

On Christmas Eve I braved the pain, got on my motorbike and headed to a huge book/cd store to get a couple of gifts. I knew I was pretty haggard and had to walk like an octogenarian, but I didn't expect to be laughed at. A group of adult women pointed and shrieked with mirth as I waddled down some stairs, me all bearded up and right dizzy. I was gutted to be quite honest. That I didn't have the strength to glare at them and spit profanities. Fucking bitches. Instead, to my shame, I hung my head in shame, thinking I was the one to blame, but later, in the lane, when Elaine tried to relieve my pain, it was clear that it was they who were lame, the ball in my court with everything to gain.

(Chorus).

Ahem.

Tinsel. Fuck tinsel. Give me a decent bauble anyday. Not only are they shiny, they are usually round. Tinsel is not round. It is long and sometimes furry. Furry fucking tinsel is the worst. Stupid fucking word as well 'tinsel'. Fuck off with your tinsel.

Do you know what I'm looking forward to? Trying DMT! I've resisted it for years, it's been my deferred gratification rather than going to college and getting a decent job. One must have priorities you know.

I want to get the fuck away from Demented Isle. My flying days are over since I developed a very healthy terror of being corralled like cattle and herded onto a metal tube, to be shot into the air to a cruising altitude of 35,000ft. Fuck. That. Shit. So I reckon I might get on a freighter, and take a leisurely three week passage back to Europe. Mainly because I have great success getting off with women while travelling, and I fancy a bit of strange. Old-strange. The oldest woman I've gotten it on with was a 40-ish mad Swedish bint who tried to jack me off in the middle of a bar in Thailand. Fucking hell!

I 'spose you didn't really need to know that, did you. Well it's too late now, cupcake. The die is cast. The bird has flown. The shop is shut. The milk is spilt. The cat is stoked. Jesus.

You've gotta laugh though, what? Like me when I saw a scooter accident the other day. Understand, Demented Isle is scooter-land, and driving here is pure fucking Bedlam. It's mostly bang out of order, but if you've been here long enough you become inured to it, and then go as mental as the natives. Accidents are so common, when you see two scooters smash into each other one tends to see the funny side and ignore the shattered bones etc. So anyway I'm waiting for some sushi at a little restaurant on a busy road. An old boy comes flying out of an alley without checking at all and some young scooter-punk broadsides the silly fucker. They both go flying and the old boy stands up and starts having a right go at the young 'un. Cars stopped, pedestrians paused, everyone laughing fit to burst. It's a cruel world, my friends. Specially if you read Hotrocks. I feel your pain.

If you can remember 'Beat Street' you're alright in my book. You can't, can you? You were into Iron Maiden in 1986, weren't you? Square. Or those 'Welcome to the Jungle' cunts, what the fuck were they called again? Long-haired widdly-widdly guitar solo fucks. I was lugging a piece of lino around doing no-handed windmills, buying Electro albums and getting arrested for vandalism. And now I feel old. Thanks a bunch. Of cunts.

I dare you to make a techno tune by sampling Leonard Cohen's 'Bird on a Wire'. My friend G. would love that shit. It was a trick dare anyway - it can't be done. Unless you want to burn in hell of course. If that's the case, have away at it.

Does this make my bum look big?

Sirrah!

"I knew the internet was doomed". First time reader of Hotrocks.