I Can’t Move Any Mountain
Every morning I wake up to the stark realisation that it will never be the 1990’s again.
Wave of Flatulation
Just a quick one, it’s nearly pub o’clock. The much anticipated second edition of Clockwork went pretty well. We’re still not getting the numbers through the door our promoters want, but at three quid plus a pint, I don’t think that’s wholly down to us. Those that were there really seemed to have a good time. We were applauded at the end, a bit odd, but much appreciated. The atmosphere was even better than last month, people were ready to dance fairly early on. Thanks lads. Though the volume of cute indie chicks was, I’m afraid to say, down on last month. If I find out they were scared off by Fulla’s Sambuca-shuffle™ dancing then we might have to have words.
Irony part 43
David Walliams, the wank-faced goon, is swimming the Channel. That’s funny because whenever he’s on my screen I get an uncontrollable urge to change the channel.
