10.9.06

No sign of drizzle.


I hereby announce that a bit of wake and bake at 10.30am will fuck you up. Which, I hasten to remind you, is good. Very good. I raise an inquisitive eyebrow in your general direction.

One of the few things that blows my gauges is fucked-up product packaging. I noticed just before I left England that drinks' manufacturers were introducing those bottles with a tubed cap, so you have to hold it away from your mouth and squeeze the bottle to get anything out. Just like pro athletes do on the pitch, filling their mouths and then spitting violently, and then even spraying some over their heads. Fucking drama queen cunts. Did you see Beckham in England's last game of the world cup? What a fucking muppet. Anyway, those bottles are fucking shit, and the marketing dillon who started it needs a slap.

(Walking down the street, sees a friend). "Hey man, hizzle bizzle?"
"Oh it's good, yo, I'm making a lizzle of mizzle".
"Excellent. I've gotta go so I'll sizzle you lizzle".
"Bye".

It'a damn shame that Snoop Dogg's '-izzle-speak' fell out of favour so quickly. I like simplistic stupidity. It was originally a gang thing in LA I think. Someone probably told him to tell everybody to stop using it or he'd get shot in the face.

Talking of being shot in the face, have you seen the state of Mickey Rourke? What the Christ has he done to himself?

Okay, let's get to the meat of this thing: Steve Irwin was a bit of a knob, really, wasn't he? His death is very sad, don't get me wrong. I read somewhere someone saying they would have liked to go drinking with him. Fuck me, you're welcome to each other and you can leave me the fuck out of it. Drinking with him would have been fucking awful. And he supported John Howard. As I say though, very sad.

It is an incredible morning here, sunshine and a clear freshness in the air. I am not a cunt, therefore instead of sitting here typing like a complete one, I am off out to revel in it. I have spoken.

Sirrah!

"I wouldn't know a snowy egret if I was pissing on one". Jack Nicholson

2.9.06

Breakfast and a pint and everyting's aariight


I must say that mass circulation newspapers the world over, those myth-dealing witless fucks, are fucking cunts. How the fuck do you see life as a staffer at Fox News, the Sun newspaper, at the bbc? Those letters don't deserve capitalisation these days. You fucking lab rat you. Fuck cnn. Amanpour should fuck off with her diplomat or whatever the high-ranking fuck he is husband and then fuck off some more. Wolf Blitzer? Situation Room? Come near me and I will fucking do you harm my son. It's like screaming, "STOP IT!!" at a dirty raging storm while standing on a high vicious bluff above the crushing rage of waves....

...and trying to piss into it and make a difference.

I've just got the new landline installed, and bought a new phone. I fucking love the phone because the cunts' screen is golden lumescent brown like a gadget from 'The Empire Strikes Back'. 'Avin' it.

Jenny Agutter in 'Logan's Run'. Fucking hell.

Fuck that. 'Walkabout'.

Oh yes aye.

Yeah so anyway my girl is doing yoga in the meditation room, my dog is sleeping under the wisteria just outside the back door, the sun is shining, I be hitting the Stella and just getting mashed up on the bud, the petroglyphs I can go see whenever the fuck I want at low tide, and the world rules the world. I hugged a tree yesterday that was a sapling when Marco Polo was fucking shit up. And if you deride me using the term 'tree-hugging cunt' I will concur just before I relieve you of your life by jabbing you in the throat or something.

Absolutely fuck all. Don't you just love the way I tend to preface each paragraph with a bold statement of it's subject?

Couple of lines even, for those cunts paying attention.

'The War on Terror'. 'Islamic Fascism'. 'Terrorist'. You peddle these terms you stupid fucking cunt and I anticipate with pleasure the bitter inescapable anguish that will consume you as you approach death, agonized and twitching with shame. If I could I'd pay to watch, uneducated death-merchant fuck. Christ Almighty the mass media fucks me off.

West coast eggs benedict. Fucking lush.

Getting some funny reactions sometimes to my English accent here in Canadia. Some woman sang a song with a band in the pub, and as they finished we were just leaving. The song was great, so as I passed her I shouted, "FUCKING WICKED!" She shat herself.

A pox on all SUV drivers! Fuck me this country's full of 'em. I'd get some of those stickers that say 'You SUV-driving cunt you' and slap them on but it would be a round the clock vocation, so fuckit. Honestly, the size of the fucking things. What the fuck?

Yesterday afternoon I sat in the back garden and sucked on a cone and listened as my Navajo neighbour had a pow-wow or did a rain dance or something. His strange chanting in the distance had induced in me a calm spirituality. He was probably intoning something like, "Why don't you all fuck off you bunch of white cunts and leave me be".

I notice Tony Blair is suggesting that mothers and young families should be monitored so that the state can intervene if the youngsters start getting out of line. What in the sweet name of Jesus is that fucking cunt on about? Punch me in the face fuck's sake.

Sirrah!

"Little kids need Ritalin hit me with a full tin of gin and I'm a kid again". MC Doom.