I suck

Just looked at the date and it's been over a week since my last post. So to make amends... here's another one. Not necessarily a spectacular one, but a post nonetheless.

Actually had a bit of a bitch of a week, temperatures have been sailing aroun the 30's all week. Not much if you're native to equatorial climes, i know, but we're Brits, dammit, and we're not used to this kinda heat.

Naturally, the country's completely screwed. The trains have had to slow down in case the tracks have buckled (Funny, Australian trains dont have this problem) and the water companies are billing the shit out of anyone who has more than a pint of water a day.

Speaking of the fucking water companies, bless 'em. Thursday was a water-free day. came home from work and had a nice soak in the bath after a hot and sweaty day lifting heavy crap around. Unbeknownst to us, the water main down the road had burst, and the soothing radox wonderment in which I was wallowing represented 90% of the non-drinkable water supply.

So, the water runs out. No drinking water, nothing to wash up with. can't turn the washing machine or dishwasher on. So there we were. Sitting in an incredibly warm house surrounded by dirty dishes and clothes. Aromatically speaking, it wasn't the best.

Next morning everything was back to normal, apart from the flouride they put in the water making it look like each glass contained 8 soluble asprin.

And then this weekend I decided to put the fence up. A fence I'm building from scratch, mind. I've got everything I need, but the aforementioned drought means digging into the soil to make the post holes was impossible. "I know", thinks I, "I'll hire out a post hole borer from one of the many fine hiring-type establishments in this fine town". Nope. 4 hire stations and not one of the fuckers has got a borer to suit my needs.

So I've made a gate. Looks good. Just can't put it anywhere.

Thus summarises the events of my life since the last post.

Oh, I sliced the tip of my spacebar thumb open, so I hope you appreciate the agony it's caused to to write this.

Ah'm baaack

so said Randy Quaid. Well at least he wasn't flying that fucking bi-plane.

Back from my Hols, to Gran canaria. I'd love to give a detailed report, but I had to take my keyboard apart before I left and now several keys are sticking. I'll take a chainsaw to it later to give a detailed account.

Surprise, surprise

We're out of the world cup, and the part-time patriots are collectively throwing their toys out of their prams.

Pisses me off that everyone becomes so full of patriotic pride that they feel compelled to adorn their homes and vehicles with the St George's cross. But as soon as the 11 blokes running after the ball have blown it, the Queen can go fuck herself.

If you're gonna fly the flag, do it like the Americans do; because you're proud of your country. Not because some overpaid pretty-boys are having a kickabout