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“Stop throwing the Constitution in my face,” Bush screamed back. “It’s just a goddamned piece of paper!”

So Zef got me a scarf, and Michael got me a bottle of JD, and the old man got me some books innit. Good, useful books. Safety first.

So I was up in Rugby with that old man and his lady for a few days. Got a years’ worth of telly in, which was good. Copped Early Doors, a Craig Cash penned pub sitcom of sorts, some Catweazel, and a whole bunch of season four of The Sopranos, best show on TV (no Gwil, I haven’t seen Deadwood yet, no Gwil and Luke, I don’t like The Sopranos because it glamorises machismo and crime, losers, watch it, Jesus). Totally won the Spot The Intro quiz. I kicked ass on 90s. Serious!

While I was there JTWR MySpaced me, which is dope cos I’ve been trying to get hold of that bra for time. We shall link on return to London, so I’ll hold back ATD11 a few weeks so he can hop on that shit. SO far the thing is looking tight – look out for fresh dope from Bashy and me, MissOddKid, some Deathray, PiL, blah blah. Hot hot hot.

The Wisdom Of Auntie Sheila Part 1
“All dogs are the same”

Word.

I’m in Wales now, North, Bangor, to be specific. The townies have been fed after midnight, it seems, and have multiplied crazily. I nearly caused a riot walking down the street yesterday. Dougie Moo and Benji later commented, separately, that I am insane to wear an orange tracksuit in Bangor, as I might have been stabbed. However, a number of young Scouse ladies have voiced approval, one just now in the goliath new Tesco they’ve erected, that sells EVERYTHING, apart from ice and moustache wax. Bangor, incidentally, is suffering a water crisis – the tap stuff is undrinkable as someone dumped some bodies in the water last month or something. Serious! Bangor is harsh man.

Marek is less large than he used to be, but he is still tonk, and just died his eyebrows. He looks like Bert or Ernie, but he says he looks like some Manga nutbar, and I suppose he does too. but he does spend an inordinate amount of time playing this online sword and sorcery weirdness. Word Of Warcraft it is called. Marek is a big mong with no shoes called Etuhu, he is trying to find a fish, and is being chased by a gorilla. It’s OK though, as he can turn into a bear at will. And a cat. And he has a big hammer. He can also turn invisible, but when he does I can see him.

It is taking him an awful long time to find his gay fish, I must say.

Anyway. In other news, my Mam’s dog, Tess, is on MySpace, weirdly, looking for dogs, so go hit that bitch the fuck up. And that Keith Tenniswood remix of Liverpool was Adam Walton’s song of the year in his top 50 countdown. Safety first Walton!

Remember 911?

Remember Katrina?

Remember Jonathan Aitken? You can hire the baby and arms peddling nob for your parties now. Like a clown. Wow.

Plus, them rotten mochyn (which is Welsh for pig) can arrest man for anything nowadays! Well, as of tomorrow. Happy New Year! I’m out of here!

— Saturday, December 31st, 2005

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