Sunday Is Evil.
Mood:  down
Now Playing: Delia's Gone-Johnny Cash
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone

Evening,

I cannot abide Sundays. If ever a day of the week was designed to make you die of a broken heart, it is Sunday. Everything is somehow meaner and shabbier on a Sunday. The week stretches before me filled with the soul destroying routine of work.

I really miss being self employed sometimes but every hare brained scheme I have tried to liberate me from paid employment has failed miserably. I'm all out of ideas and have no idea what to try next. I quite fancied writing for a while but I'm not sufficiently posh or well connected to make up for my lack of talent. I've done retail on a self employed basis and couldn't face it again. Ebay has
somehow ended up costing me a fortune. I'm shite at drawing so could probably make a living drawing portraits of tourists but I can't face working out of doors. Not in Glasgow at any rate. I cannot dance or sing. I don't have the stomach for prostitution. I am terrible at all sports. Politics is out the window as I cannot attend a party meeting without wanting to kill everyone present- including myself.

I have no idea what to do with myself but I cannot face the prospect of another thirty years of this crap. I really can't. I'm starting to hate my work mainly because of my irritating colleague and because it is pointless. I have few friends and no social life due to having a particularly unfortunate personality. Readers I need a change. Any suggestions would be gratefully received.


Cheerio

O' Christ What A Hangover!
Mood:  down
Now Playing: The Drowners-Suede
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone


Good Evening,

If I seem ill tempered blame guest blogger Ewen. He arrived at my home last night and forced me to drink large quantities of alcohol until six in the morning. I actually am getting to old for this, which is the downside of being an early developer in adolescence. Anyway after guest blogger Ewen's departure I fell asleep on the couch only to be awoken at the ungodly hour of 10am by a republican march. That's an Irish republican march by the way, most of the marchers had that bovine Labour voter look about them so probably aren't fans of the idea of an independent Scotland free of the vile monarchy. Ironically for someone with my views on Scottish Independence, Northern Ireland and the monarchy I prefer a good Orange walk. There is a jauntiness there that is totally absent in Republican marches. Today our republican chums were carrying a banner with the message 'Garngad Remembers the Hunger Strikers'. I can't help but feel that if Bobby Sands and pals had known they would be remembered in Garngad they would have demanded a round of bacon sandwiches and still be with us today. For those of you unfamiliar with the Garngad area of Glasgow, consider yourselves very fortunate indeed. Garngad in modern social welfare language is an area of 'multiple deprivation'. Of course as it wouldn't annoy Rangers fans you won't see any Garngadders marching against poverty or poor housing or to demand equal opportunities. This is what depresses me about these clowns, they'll march to protest against someone farting in the vicinity of an Irishman but wouldn't dream of taking to the streets to protest against the misery the state causes them in their own lives. In any case I note that none of them feel so strongly about the British occupation of Northern Ireland that they'd go and live there. No instead they conspire to make my chronic hangover far worse by marching up and down the High Street taking full advantage of the protection of the crown forces and achieving nothing. Still brilliant drumming though.


Cheerio

Mr Pond Is Back....Oh He's gone again!
Mood:  lazy
Now Playing: Harper Valley PTA- Dolly Parton
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone


Evening,

Merciful Jesus! good old Mr Pond is back. He's running off to Italy and then the depressingly named East Dulwich, but he's not dead so that's a weight off my mind.

Robin Cook however is actually dead and I note that Tony Blair will not be attending the funeral. I am outraged by this for a number of reasons not least that the peerless John Mcririck is annoyed by it. I also remember that earlier in his reign of terror Blair found time to issue a statement calling for the release of Deirdre Rachid from jail. I should point out for my hordes of international readers that Deirdre is a fictional character who was imprisoned during the course of a story line in Coronation St which would suggest Tony has a rather strange set of priorities.Thirdly I am opposed to virtually anything Blair does on principle. He would however have my full support if he shot himself.


Cheerio

The Ramblings Of A Diseased Mind
Mood:  down
Now Playing: I Won't Back Down- Johnny Cash
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone




Evening,

I realise you all must be terribly worried about me given that I haven't posted for a few days. The good news is I'm still alive. I have nothing to report, the only human contact I have had today was to say 'no' to a man who asked me if I wished to help disabled children. So in view of the fact I have no friends, no life and nothing interesting to tell you I shall rant about something that has been at the back of my mind for several months.

I fucking hate to the point of insanity humble people. As long term masochists who have been following this shite for a while will know I have a pathological hatred of one of my work colleagues. I hate him for a number of reasons not least that he is fucking his own daughter. He is taking her to Paris next week! Alone! Anyway leaving aside his unnatural relationship with his child he is humble and gullible. This annoys me beyond belief. Our office has a long corridor at the front and no matter how far behind him you are when walking in he will wait for you to walk the length of it to hold the door open for you. If you don't happen to be going through the door he will still hold it open for a few minutes in case you change your mind.

Imagine having so little self importance. Standing there wasting time to save one of your superiors the terrible effort of opening a very light door. What a fucking wanker! I never, ever say thank-you for this. Nor do I say thanks when he runs about making my tea and putting a selection of biscuits out for me without being asked. I am unfortunate that I have no 'stopping point' in my conduct towards people I don't like. I must be stood up to! It never fails to amaze me how much crap people will take whilst smiling at you in a 'please like me' fashion.

To return to the psychological catastrophe that is my horrifying work colleague. I only noticed very recently how gullible he is. It's truly remarkable any crock of crap his clients tell him he believes. Perhaps my favourite is the women he is trying to persuade the DWP to buy a couch because her current couch is making her want to 'kill herself'. He sincerely believes this and is appalled by my total incredulity and my repeated enquiries as to whether she's killed herself yet. For the love of God, I am a socialist and quite happy to see people in need getting a bit of extra benefit but anyone fragile enough to be driven to suicide by a couch deserves to die. I realise that sounds harsh but this client has children for their sake she needs to be stopped. Imagine being brought up by someone so neurotic or to be more accurate such a shit liar.


Right I'm off now to sulk some more.

Cheerio

I Would Not Fuck These With Yours!
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Trash- New York Dolls
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone


Evening,

There I was eating my cherries and swishing about the net when I thought I'd visit Dr Feelgood to cheer myself up. As ever I was seized with the urge to steal and like a big magpie half inched this thing. It a a celebrity love match thing that pairs you up with a selection of alleged celebrities based of your date of birth. I am most unimpressed with my selection.

Apparently the women I'm most compatible with are
Annamarie Thomas (who?), the improbably named 'Lark Voorhies (who?), Fergie (mercifully not the Duchess of York, but the singer), Kimberly Williams and Marit Van Bohemen (pictured). I must confess I have never heard of Marit but a quick Google search reveals that she is a 'TV babe'. To be frank she looks like the best out a bad lot but being a 'TV babe' is probably a big pain in the arse. The men are even worse. Marshall Faulk (who?), Ole Gunnar Solskjaer (12 year old), Christian Coulson (some connection to fucking Harry Potter), Christian Slater (no! no! no!) and Edward Norton.

For fucks sake I took up bisexuality to expand my choice and I'm expected to get excited by this rubbish. I have chosen Ed Norton because I have heard of him and I have seen him in two films. I should point out that I know it's only a daft test and I'm not expected to actually fuck any of the celebrities involved, I just felt that having shared the news with you I should express a preference.

To add insult to injury the lying test of Satan reckons I'm only 85% compatible with my real life boyfriend. What piffle! My boyfriend is the fucking best and the person I have known longest without wanting to punch.

I'm going now, I'm too distressed to carry on.


Cheerio

An Gigantic Orange Walk And A Cry For Help!
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Life Goes On - Racine
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone



Evening,

It's that time of year when the Protestant underclass of Glasgow take to the streets to watch the annual Orange Walk which commemorates a battle that approximately 2% of those watching will know the first thing about. I should point out that I don't have anything against the Orange Order or their parades. It's the no witted vermin they attract onto the streets that depresses me.

I had set off early to the gym in order to avoid the march which the council had advised was setting off at 10:30am only to be confronted with a fuck off march heading up to the meeting point. I thought about re-routing myself but then thought why should I? It's my country , I pay taxes, I've as much right to walk down the street as them and off I went. My first trauma was being jostled by mangy peasants drunk on Buckfast. I thought this was an odd choice of tipple for such staunch Protestants given that it is made by Catholic monks. I'm also puzzled by the idiots habit of tying the Union flag round their fat arses, personally I think that scummy flag is only good for burning so I'm not upset by people treating it disrespectfully, but these fuckwits claim to be proud to be British.

My second trauma was going into my local shop and being asked by the girl behind the counter if I was 'on the march' 'I most certainly am not' I replied only to nearly die of shock when an aggressive voice behind me asked why not or to be more accurate 'how no?'. Mercifully they seemed happy with my reply that I was in a huff because they wouldn't give me a shot of one of big drums. I'm still grossly insulted that the staff of a shop I regularly shop in think I am the sort of person that follows Orange Walks about! They're Muslims and I wouldn't dream of asking them if they've planned any good suicide bombings recently! Bloody racists! Following an Orange Walk! I read books! I think! The cheek!

Anyway I went to the gym where I learned that since taking up exercises about a month ago I have lost five whole pounds! Later after leaving the gym I again ran into the march heading to Glasgow Green and suffered my next and final trauma as someone threw a bottle at me for no apparent reason. I obviously wasn't looking illiterate enough for them. So out of sheer bloody mindedness I charged through the fuckers instead of walking round the long way as I'd planned. I am a very cowardly person but I'd rather take the kicking than back down to that sort of mindless aggression and I must admit after having a bottle lobbed at me I was spoiling for a fight.


I then got home to find two of the of the ugliest women I've ever seen singing 'Follow Follow' with heavy emphasis on 'Fuck the Pope' on my doorstep who then proceeded to throw a plastic cider bottle on the ground as I was opening the door. I stunned them into silence by stopping picking the bottle up and putting it in the bin. I realise that if you are a fat,deformed, brainless, disgusting, ugly, pointless piece of shit whose sole interests are fighting, drinking, bigotry and firing worthless, anti-social children out of your gaping, lard infested, disease ridden cunt then dropping litter in front of people's houses is probably normal behaviour but I fail to see why I should need to put up with it.

After that I concluded that it was too much hassle to go out so sat couped up all day. Why does stupidity have to be pandered to all the time? I think it's more to do with my current mood than anything but today has made me feel total despair from start to finnish. The most depressing thing of all is that in the last twenty four hours the only contact I have had with other human beings has been insolent shop assistants and total fucking scum. Is it any wonder I'm suicidal?

Cheerio

By The Crazy Frog I Sat Down And Wept.
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Jamie Come Try Me-Eddi Reader
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone
Oh God!

I watched Top of the Pops for the first time in about a year. The presenters are still 30 something vermin trying to be trendy. But the Crazy Frog, that is foul. Foul and wicked. I know everyone idealises their youth but that fucking thing is a new low. When I was a child living amongst the lower middle classes; doorbells were all the rage. Doorbells that played tunes. I had an aspiring posho friend whose doorbell played Viva Espagna. That was class. We all enjoyed it, but saw no need to start releasing records based around it. When we wanted shite we turned to Black Lace. It actually was better then and we knew we were living in a declining era.

As for Top of the Pops, I wish they had shown Rachel Stevens last; that would have given me hope for humanity.

Cheerio.

A Foot In Each Camp And The World In Between.
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Carnival Kids-The Futureheads
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone



Evening,

It's official! I am a man trapped in a womens body.
I took this empathy quiz and scored 42 points. Most men score 42 and most women 47.

Years of being tormented and treated with utter contempt by females throughout school. My sense of exile when segregated in the primary school playground. Suddenly it all makes sense. I'm a passive homosexual trannie with an eye for the ladies! Which I think amounts to being a bisexual bird! Something I always knew but was told was impossible by certain po-faced lesbian and heterosexual bints, as if I of all people would be shy about coming out! Stop oppressing me! I am natural. I'm a one woman pride march.

After thirty years there is an explanation! I was told that I had a slight testosterone imbalance during my adolescence. I never once suspected I had the brain of a man though.

All my life I've been made to feel like a freak with all the worthlessness that implies but no I am entirely natural! One of natures tricks!

Anyway it's late and I have gym tomorrow morning so I'm off to pee standing up and then off to bed.


Cheerio

The Pill Works!
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Cat On The Wall-PJ Harvey
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone




Evening,

I see a new study has found that the pill ruins your sex drive forever. Sadly I can't say I've noticed. Let's face it there anything more inconvenient and certain to cause shame and public humiliation than one's sex drive. Sexual desire has caused me nothing but trouble since I was about ten. My entire adolescence was spent trailing after spotty wasters in the hope of a jump and only the other day I lost my footing on a piece of gym equipment mesmerised by some goddess wearing very little and doing stretching exercises. I am sorry to report that she didn't so much as glance my way or suddenly realise she was destined to spend the next hour of her life with me. The stuck up cow!

Anyway The Daily Mail were predictably gloating in their coverage of the latest pill scare. They love nothing more than a health scare affecting women so that they can terrify their readership of rancid boilers. A very clever gentleman once told me that The Daily Mail is the best selling newspaper amongst women. If a man said to me that the majority of women were neurotic, hysterical and pig shit thick I'd deck him but judging by their actions it's hard to draw any other conclusion.

Life in the third gender is a lonely business.


Cheerio.

Back To Reality.
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Le Garage- The Futureheads
Topic: Alone, Alone, Alone



Evening,

One of the most wonderful things about being on holiday is not seeing any news. Now I'm back and have spent the last couple of days catching up. I had hoped someone might have assassinated Blair in my absence but sadly no.

I see that my much missed former local MP Mr Galloway is getting the Scargill treatment. I actually don't care very much whether he did sell a bit of oil he shouldn't have (though I doubt he did). What I find far more interesting is the fact that before they all fell out, both the British and American governments were quite happy to cosy up to Saddam and sell him arms, some of which were no doubt used to torture the very Iraqis whose human rights they now claim to be so concerned about. I also note that our rulers also seem very selective about which regimes human rights abuses to get worked up about. Or does Saudi Arabia just get a bad press? They also seem strangely selective about whose relationship with Saddam they decide to scrutinise.

I have just finished reading The Memoirs and Confessions of A Justified Sinner by James Hogg and strongly suspect that it is very similar to what goes on in Blair's head. I bet that sick loon does think that he's doing Gods work when he sends thousands of young working class men out to die for one of his pointless wars. You notice that politicians never feel so strongly that they themselves join the army or send their children out to fight. I personally thought that Blair should have been kicked out after Cherie's loathsome 'I am a mother and worried about my young son going away to university' performance during her flat purchase scandal. At a time when thousands of mother's young sons were fighting in Afghanistan and the decision had already been taken to sacrifice more in Iraq it was, to say the least insensitive.

One final point before I return to my usual self centered whining. I couldn't help but note on my holiday that whilst cars could freely drive past any nation's embassy in Prague, it was necessary for armed police to stop and search each vehicle that passed the American Embassy. There was probably a tank outside the British Embassy. Being unpopular doesn't always make you wrong but it should make you wonder.

Cheerio.