H2O

I read in the paper today that a goldfish was caught swimming up a street, in Gloucester. Apparently it's being looked after by firecrews until its owner is claimed. The bit of this that i don't get is how on Earth anyone is going to recognise thier pet fish, when they all look exactly the same.
(I would be getting complaints from fish owners around now if anyone read this blog. My only consolation for its lack of readers is that i can subsequently write whatever i want, and nobody will complain. Perhaps, if i include the MI5 'key words', i will have some secret-service readers. Here goes: BOMB, AL QUAEDA, TERRORISM, PLANE, EXPLODE, JIHAD, WESTERN OPRESSORS, INFIDELS and, not to discriminate, IRA, ULSTER, CATHOLIC PIG, PROTESTANT BASTARD)

Yes, so i think that waiting for a fish to be reclaimed is quite daft. On top of the fact that the owner probably has other slightly more important things to worry about.

After extensive studying of 'ma telly', i have come to the conclusion that i don't really want to move house for a bit, because living on a hill seems to have a nice advantage (being that i can look down on those flooded out of their little abodes, in a condescending fashion, and gloat that although they may not have to walk up a big hill every time they go out, they do have to invest in a big water pump, for their big flood).

In more pressing news, i also stumbled across an interesting article about 'Oscar the Angel of Death', which is in fact a cat, not an angel. Apparenly it predicts when people will die, in the nursing home that it frequents.
If only i could get hold of it, i would drain Coral of all their cash....

Tequila, Tequila

Another weekend wasted to alcohol, eh?

Yes, 'same here'.

Sometimes, i am probably one that slightly overstates my drinking exploits, in order to help the momentum of a story/excuse some fat horror that i've been with on a night out/disguise being a bit of a lightweight in comparison to how big i am.

However, in regards to the Friday night just gone, i can safely say that even conservative estimations as to how much i drank are likely to be 'quite big'.

The moment that eye contact was made with the tramp fluid that is '20/20', i knew that sobriety would not be on the menu for the night.
Some clever bastard once said "The name '20/20' was chosen, as it is inversley proportional to your vision after drinking a bottle".

I have to agree.

Invariably, Count. Tequila rose from his glassy grave, to smite us all with his poison (we drank some tequila). After that, memory is actually hazy.
Often, the old 'hazy memory' tactic is employed when a large portion of the night was just too cringeworthy to bear thinking about. BUT, from this night, my memory is actually operating in blocks. Shit ones, with giant holes in...

Due to the previously mentioned cretinity (i have coined a new term, see!?), the weekend has been fairly dull and uneventful.

There is one thing that i think is worth sharing.
I have located, via a fellow perpetrator, a photo of my 'as previously blogged' bus shelter surfing!

Yes, the gurning idiot with his tongue hanging out of his head like a mental is indeed me.