Blighty and a shit attempt at philosophy.

I've been a bit quiet lately, mostly because I've been getting acquainted with Modern Warfare 3, and re-acquainted with Babestation. I've been back in blighty for two weeks and now I'm told I've gotta be back in France on Monday. Fuck a duck.

It's nice to be in a country where I'm not watching my every step for dog shite and romany gypsies. Christmas was nice, was with the family and I got some slippers and a few wifebeaters some I'm loving life. Nothing much happens. Get drunk some nights, spend the next morning regretting it in the sink (or on a train like this morning fml) play a lot of Madden, poon the odd noob on COD, then crack into my Michael Palin box set. Exciting times.

I write this in 2012. Whoop de fucking do. Buy a new calendar. Nothing really changes. All the people that see it as a new start. 3 weeks later and they're back on the fags and the dust has settled on that Max and Paddy fitness DVD. You want to change your live. Move to the North Korea. I'm sure Kim Jong-Un would appreciate a good barber. They say the world's gunna end in 2012, fuck the Mayans, it'll be that obese gook at the forefront of it, riding shotgun with the devil himself.

On the upside Katy Perry's back on the open market.

Insomnia at Christmastime

I get to go home tomorrow, and I cannae fucking wait. Now I know how the guys feel on the last episode of series 1 of Auf Wiedersehen Pet. I haven't been sleeping properly either, doing all nighters, or just being a bit of a nighthawk...hopefully a bit of blighty will straighten me out.


Gunna have to go through Gare du Nord unfortunately, which means a bit of Romany gypo bashing if they start pestering me, I think the Dale Farm treatment will work and they'll soon fuck off. Supposedly there's a Paddy pub near the Eurostar check-in so a few pints of Guinness will balance me out.

Recently, been letting the kids get away with murder. They start drawing naughty things on the board, I'll kinda join in, shortening their stick man's weiner for banter purposes etc. Otherwise it's all quiet on the western front.

Went to Chalons the other week to go clubbing. For legal reasons I cannot fully go into what happened but basically Dave pulled a rather fit frog, I discovered the joys of a French pasty, and the girls got moist watching a Chippendales show. This club, Alegra, was pretty gangbanging, shame it seemed to be full of nippers, awkward dancefloor moments of how old are you, followed up by 'yeah but you look 16 don't ya ;)'.


Can't wait to go home, France is full of foreigners, then there's the annoying foreign assistants that deserve a slap for them taking the high road over using French on Facebook...it's Facebook fuckhead, I don't wanna speak frog on there you beaner! The whole reason Britain colonised the world was so that we wouldn't have to learn how to speak these foreign languages that sound like a jock after 10 pints of Tennents.

Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa to you all, good night and God bless.