Day 1 : With a little help from Pinder, I found out that home is just as cold as away, which is sort of confusing as home always seems like a warm place….. possibly because this isn’t actually home but, well, that’s being mended. Getting home late I didn’t really get a chance to meet up with Bennie or Ned – they being the only two home at the moment (despite rumours of Alf being around) – but I guess it’s down his local with Bennie tonight, so there’s something to look forward to…. After tiring myself out with trashy tv I lay in bed thinking about drinking milkshake in a café which looked like an indian restaurant – sitting diagonal to Coco (and opposite Gypsy) trying to think of the name of a film about a pyscho who chose his destiny with flip of a coin, American something, no, not American Pyscho……. Kind of arty film…. Second word spelt wrong, oh never mind. Shared an umbrella with Coco, talked about Farnborough (air show?) and t-shirts and the Toon army…… clothes hanging over my bed again, bass rattling something in here…. American Perfekt – now I can sleep…….

Two today…….. well, I guess there’s nothing to do in the mornings anyway…. Spent much of afternoon (or what was left) packing up six bags of newspapers, emptying suitcases, smelling for dirties, washing, hanging – arranged music around the boxroom – can’t move for plastic holes (or lumps), putting boxes in attic, thinking about Esmerelda, had pre-prepared roast chicken (fell back in love with cooker) until it was time for Bennie to ring…. and he did….. evening return has gone up 10p…… sitting at bus stop, girl chose not to sit next to bloke in long black coat, shivering in cold (and wet)….. girl ascends to top deck, dodgy bloke follows (bottom floor too noisy for optimum walkman usage) and sits a bit behind her, careful not to glance in her direction due to current stalking media coverage…. girl gets off at stop, boy follows after a while (girl gets up far too prematurely for lazy boy)….. bus stops, girl gets off nervously…. paranoid boy breathes sigh of relief as girl walks in opposite direction to boy’s destination…….. His local has changed….. become no longer quaint and much longer classy…… still managed to hook up Strangeway’s finest (an improvement, believe it or not) although still charging princely sum for the honour……. not impressed that pool table has gone…… Even less impressed that beloved (JD W) Moon Under Water has undergone similar metamorphosis……. Bennie and Alf found alternative accommodation at weekend…… feeling less glad to be home……. Got home early, watched trashy tv, watched video, went to bed……. still got blocked up nose…… sleep.

Straight after entry, ESP came into part when, like minded, Nipfler rang, suggesting beverage consumption and hence at 5 (or ten past), the great minds from the two sides converged upon the indeed homogenised Moon Under Water….. still prices are cheap and if it helps keep out the riff raff….. After much drinkage (inc. pound a pint at the Varsity), Nipfler and Stephen began to plot the plan…. A heist to end all heists, a job to end all jobs and it was sorted and it was straight and it was homogenous, word of the day……. It was decided that all works of literary art were concerned with the phallus and pudenda solely (much like Belinda) and thus a hijacking of such ideals should be attempted – thus a heist on a city bank (this is between you and I, right?) would show all those critics (including Greer) that art needn’t be concerned with genitalia, especially if tasteful – thinking of organ thing solo in Criminal. Thought of talking about art to the old man I sat next to on the bus (interrupted a great Davis solo) but instead agreed that misplaced roadworks doubled the length of any journey…. I suggested that also parking a car in such a dubious spot was asking for trouble and it’s fascist bastards like that who moan about their tickets – "only gone 5 minutes" – when they choose to park in such stupid places, who are turning our once great nation into a land of saps and bleeding hearts…… he blamed it on the blackies….. he got off after three stops so I returned to Spain. Happy to see that the Oak hasn’t changed, although the old man with the grey afro wasn’t there, to much disappointment. DJ Little Ian (purveyor of pound a pint) had questionable talents, mixing the mundane with the beats of big…… still at such a cheap price, I’m not one to moan….. unlike Drazick. After a brief sojourn with trashy tv, it was to sleep, including an IBM dream, involving two killer woodpeckers (hopefully no correlation) who looked suspiciously more like ravens (although one of them temporarily had no beak) who attacked me as I came out of an elevator….. after much running and chasing, a kick to the birds sent them crashing to the floor and after much repetition and stamping, their claret spilled across the linoleum floors of Warwick HQ……… Slight pause in the project as not only is the heist being performed but also quality time with Bennie and Grandmere……. Bennie has 13.5% wine….. I am leaving but the fighter still remains……

And lo! The weekend ended and trashy tv was watched…… well, not too trashy this time, but tv seems to have that trash quality that could mar the most glorious of productions…. Oh, I digress, lengthened. Things began with part 1 of part 2 of the Godfather, a somewhat lengthy film which I delightfully endured but then, twas fun….. Bennie’s lending assured me this treat and gravitas is certainly beheld. But I guess things really started later that day, when microwave balti was oven cooked over in Bennie’s neighbourhood whilst (yet again) regarding the most depressing Rodney episode ever (unofficially). Then to the extravagantly redesigned stars (spangling like a banner of some sort, gravitas) for a few jars of overpriced honey dipped (ganja stick) nectar…. fuel…… back to neighbourhood, thinking of Coco, Bladder and all the others (laughing at thought of Gypsy)….. bottle of dirty Mexican moloko later (plus a couple of the local financial supplier) and Bennie, soberish, fell asleep whilst halfway through a cartoon. Therefore I changed channels and was entertained by words and Irene Jacob for 90mins of glorius inaction…… was thinking of Binoche but decided against….. have since discussed with someone or other (forget who) that blue was better than red but I disagree….. the music is better in the latter (despite the former being ‘about’ music…) at any rate…….erm another cartoon later (unremembered) and to sleep….. dreamt of shoes (Nipfler just rang, lost train of thought, such as it was) erm, woke up stupidly late but well, it’s holidays and I was tired…… ‘twas suggested I was ill, untrue untrue….. even ate weetabix….. eventually got up town (or city) cause Bennie needed a new battery and was unable to figure transference out for himself…. guys in garage laughed at him, I looked on, worried about the Nazi tough skinhead tattoo manager bloke…. When he started lowering all the protective blinds outside and locking the doors, I became a little edgy (damn, mother’s just walked in, forgot about early Mondays - this will have to wait until tomorrow – bumper issue) but apparently it was getting on time to close, so escaped, unharmed….. back for pizza slice, Nipfler had rang Bennie…… rang around, Nipfler gone to gym, Alf will come over, bringing T’other… eventually Nipfler on his way, Bennie and Sandra start a’cooking, well, Sandra reads CD inserts and occasionally stirs onions, plays with dog….. cat slightly less playful than dog… dog dumb….. Nipfler arrives, triptych nouveau eat, and Alf brings T’other around….. after Dionne gets dull and the party hits run out, a pub visit is in order so once again to the stars - where posh eaters staring at us get annoying to the point that Sandra waves as the cinquante departs to next village and next pub – ah! Banks’s… joy. Less stares, prettier barmaid…. Getting on time for close so back to Bennie’s for internet chat – Nipfler excels (even more so than past-master Sandra who feels unwitty) at extreme sarcasm in face of petty yankage…… T’other amused by brief spurt of paedophilic comments from Sandra… refers to large girl from years back who devoted a song to him…. Sandra not had any Take That songs devoted to him since…… Bennie, on cue, reminisces (one time) about how much of a bastard he used to be…… to an extent true but we all have phases, like the moon. Alf and T’other go back for mother and her day and we attempt a film, but 13.5% bottle later and only half gets viewed…… trip to Wales gets delayed due to BST forgetfulness of parents so I nick some of Bennie’s bacon (Bennie still being in bed) and watch trashy tv (definitely trashy this time) until parents show….. meal in pub (ugh, more drink) with grandmere, during game of pool Scray nearly cries to Bat Out Of Hell, not sure why….. then off to hospital to see Grandpere, wordless, utterance, absent, pale, reminiscence, plugged, suppository, waiting….. too much so boys go to walk around Llangollen, boys never speak, (never spoke) so look for pool / or pub…. find both…. hour later and back to hospital, goodbye grandpere, see you in a bit grandmere. Back home to escape, had to borrow tape off Bennie, scraped barrel and produced G‘n’R (slightly ironically he suggested Megadeth’s Youthanasia)….. remembered that they weren’t that bad, but sound somewhat dated…… watched two nice films, fell asleep….. dreamt of Jennifer Aniston, her nipples and a pyramid, big pyramid….. she didn’t want Kevin or me, but I was miles ahead of him…. not sure who Kevin was. I was always more a Monica man anyway…….

After bumper rendition thought best to keep this one short. Also abandoning most forms of punctuation because telnet doesn’t seem to be a great fan of it. I may lose my mind if I’m not allowed to dot dot dot (dot dot dot). Much of day spent doodling, watched part two of part two of Godfather, top notch….. Scandinavian fast food servicial laughable crime creep, that babe maria she is real ok and crack whored children fantastically clinging on to hairdryers which take low dives (somersaulting) through the cityscape, narrowly missing the diving boards of rooftop swimming pools. Walt Disney feeding his cartoon characters with the innocent blood of the workers, the lowly animators (Korean) locked in a room, forced to draw at gunpoint (tee hee), shetland ponies chewing on the cud of the farmyard workers, schoolkids turning lips up at the toil of the dinnerlady workers. The blood of the workers is universally downed – come conrades, we can make a difference. Went to union with Alf (eventually) and Nipfler (not quite as eventually but still semi eventually)….. group of girls in maid’s uniforms…. crazy students. Made a profit of tenpence due to the lending of change to a nicotine addict. Alas, made a loss of fourhundredandninetyfourpence due to the using of change of an alcohol addict. Had a very tentative bus driver who was convinced his bus was a good three times bigger than it actually was. Slightly annoying when dying to urinate on an already lengthy ride. Thinking on the way home about some life-avoiding accusations pointed recently – once Gypsy pointed out that I was, that evening, very cheerful, to which I replied, with a certain degree of sarcasm, that I was always happy. She replied, without any degree of sarcasm, that yes, when she thinks about it, that was true. Her dull groupie insinuated that this was due to beer but, erm, I can’t remember my response to this. Made me wonder how many of the people I know perceive me as perpetually ecstatic….. I concluded that it probably wasn’t many. But returning to aforementioned, to those who I have spoken about it to back here, they don’t think of me as being too disturbed, which is kind of a relief. Grrr, Fatpope isn’t coming home this holiday. Running out of people to invite to Forlorn’s birthday curry on Saturday…… Damn this was supposed to be short – had lots of dreams but many I can’t remember and those that I can I don’t think are wise to divulge…. a girl like Coco featured in part in one of them – I think we were eating chips. Anyway, got to go watch part two of part three of the Godfather before ma and pa returneth.

I saw some live scat last night….. Left! Right! Join our army of male suffragettes. Finally started working, well. Done some anyway. Spent 45 hrs in my ‘home’ since I last scribed, or possibly when I last scribed, can’t remember – does typing count as scripting? I suspect not. During this monumental reused air atmosphere, I managed a grand total of 2.5 hrs revision… going right back to the beginning in Chem – no not gcse (fools), that would only confuse…… false resemblance of Bennie over the last few days – yet again illness strikes, thus rendering him immovable and certainly not up for a trip down the stars so I watched tv all night. Except I didn’t cause there wasn’t anything on – except some Polanski film which ended up being cack – so I played tetris for a fair proportion of the night, whilst listening to abrasive music in order to annoy Dam and his squealing sow next door consequently, whilst I was trying to get to sleep, I spent an hour or so reliving past tetris problems and mentally solving them…. I remember this happening in Wengen many moons ago…. Realised yesterday that I hadn’t looked at any porn since I got back so I tried some dog pics yesterday but it took so long to load that my 10min (c.40p) borderline was quickly reached. Still, I have my cheerleader stash on here somewhere… but I still haven’t looked at pics of naked girls (or dogs) yet…. well….. I did watch a film with lots of sex and nudity (mainly Patricia Arquette nudity, but there’s worse kind of nudity eg Bill Pullman (no relation j’assume (j’accuse))) in it…… alas at about 1hr50min (during a scene where you get to see Arquette’s backside) the tape got jammed and twisted the tape to shit….. the annoying thing was, for once, I was actually able to understand a Lynch film, and this was only the second time I’d seen it. Didn’t phone Bennie last night as went to watch some jazz with the ole folks at home… the pub had Tiger which was pleasant….. the first thing that I noticed was that there was a huge white bendy sousaphone amongst the performers (or around the performers) – I never actually realised sousaphones existed having only heard of them (again and again) in myth and legend courtesy of a certain Ms "I’ve got one" Farr but now this unicorn of the brass world reared it’s shiny head and blew forth pomps to rival any, erm, tuba (Leonard Bernstein!). Just seen the giant smarties advert – I don’t get it but it’s really funny. This band kept playing jazzy marches like that one in Live and Let Die…. I half expected Barren Saturday to pop up – I liked his hat, great style. Banks’s is starting to taste like vom, cannot be a good thing. Also just seen that oxo woman on tv, drunk as a lord….. she really reminds me of Bennie’s aunt. When pissing in the dark you really want to avoid two things 1) hitting the water and thus making a lot of noise and 2) hitting the carpet and drowning the floor in urine. It’s a great sport. I dreamt I was in a huge church listening to an evensong with some girl, hearing a brief passage of music and getting really randy. So I get this girl and we go downstairs and bump into Nipfler who wants to borrow this girl’s QE2 movie. She said she got mixed up with Terminator 2 but big JC, who happened to be standing nearby, had a copy. So me and this girl go back to my place and I start smooching her whilst repeatedly playing the nice bit of music I heard at the church. At which point she turns into warm water and in order to get her back I have to perform in an Indian ritual… details of which I forget but before it was completed, we were attacked by oriental ninjas and so I never got the girl again. How fickle fate can be. Lightnin’ One! Lightnin’ One!

Gripping sentinel, loose meat cringing farmer and holy ghost, all in one. Seeing pictures of mass sheep graves reminds me of that scene in Full Metal Jacket when there’s a mass grave of Vietnamese. This is a scene very fond to me because the Canadian bloke who does all the talking by the side of this grave is my old english teacher. Funny chap – he used to keep giving me D’s in my essays (it took me a while to appreciate Macbeth) simply because I didn’t say anything in class (I was a cutey in the 4th/5th form). But at a certain point in our time together, he suddenly changed and started doling out A’s like they were sheep ready to be slaughtered (satirical). I then, contrary to expectations, started to get very suspicious of him because a worm that turns so quickly must have ulterior motives. I never knew ulterior was spelt with a u, but microsoft obviously think it does, I thought it was alterior – obviously Mr Tyler wasn’t that good. Actually, the fact he was called Tyler confused me many times when, on my return trip to Canada, where I met Bonnie, I had to make it clear I wanted to stay with her again... I think you can see where this is going. Her surname wasn’t Tyler. Although she reckoned she knew of my english teacher. I regarded this with high suspicion. Anyway, by the time it came to the end of gcse, me and my teacher were fairly amicable and I even chose him to be my tutor during the sixth form. Of course this time it was I with the ulterior motives – having a science tutor wasn’t going to help me write my UCAS paragraph. Hmmm, I wasn’t going to talk about that today, but then I didn’t really have anything else to say so I guess it filled a void. Didn’t do anything exciting, Bennie still suffering from ill apparently, but tv wasn’t too bad... saw a few more breasts courtesy of eurotrash so not an evening wasted after all. Started working – 4.5 hrs down already... Better do a few more. Again, weekend break looms.

Well I’m sitting in my room now, bit warm, got no tv on cause there’s nothing on for half an hour, got no stereo on because Mum’s gone to bed, Adam’s not home yet, Dad must have the downstairs tv on kinda quiet because the only thing I can hear is the laptop whirring away and my tap tapping on the keys. Well, actually, just to prove me wrong, Dad’s moved to the kitchen and is clinking something. But, you get the idea. All is quiet. This is unusual. When I got home this afternoon, I watched videos of stuff I’d taped over the past couple of nights – did that for about 90mins….. then, when ma and pa arrived back from whatever it was that they were doing, I moved upstairs and listened to my new CDs. Half 8 I decided to cook myself something just in time for nine when the X Files came on – and lo! It was crap. Then random tv, temporarily concluding in the situation I find myself in now. Waiting until 11:45 when the next vaguely interesting looking programme begins. Well, BBC2 seems to be running a few mins early tonight so call it 11:43. It seems that I have had another sober night in. This is the third time this week. Fourth in 8 days, although I was drinking all afternoon last Sunday. And Nipfler informs me I stopped drinking at 4 this morning, so I’m not sure if this counts as a sober day either but, oh well. Friday night was pretty ok, round to Bennie’s again, via his old off licence workstation where two rather pretty girls were giving me wine to taste. One of them was nice, one was grim. Sorry, the wine that is. I decided to buy neither. Again, I’m still talking about the wine. I think one of the girls called herself Tatty or something – short for Catherine. Apparently she has two children so my attention turned to the other girl, but she was blonde. As lovely as Tettenhall isn’t, we headed back to Bennie’s abode and to the oft-mentioned Stars for a couple. For once I appreciated the use of mobiles when a call was received from Forlorn. He was coming at a reasonable hour so my organisation of the curry could go ahead. My comments from across the table amused my friend 120 miles away so communication was established. Went back to Bennie’s and proceeded to get drunk with the temporary company of a four pack and a bottle of wine. The second half of the final can beat me, however, as did about 2/3 of Blue, which I couldn’t stay awake through. Binoche may be gorgeous, but I need my sleep. Saturday went up town with Bennie, spent 20 quid on three CDs (one a double though – HMV sale quite good) – then remembered that Nick Cave’s long awaited new album is out on Monday, then remembered I had no income. Then thought aw forget it, I’ve already had two sober nights this week. Curry arranged, I arrived late, almost forgot Forlorn’s card (featuring Kate O’Mara, Dean Martin and Anna Friel), Forlorn almost forgot to show up to his own party, arriving 45mins late. Balti was yummy, Fiddler’s Elbow very good, Bishop’s Tipple was lovely if slightly bizarre and Banks’s Curry Beer tasted almost bearable. Then a quick Hogshead visit, then to horrible dance club/bar thing. Used to be a place where all the beautiful people hang out (I avoided it like the plague, go figure) now it was full of mingers. Oh how the pedestals are whipped out from beneath the mighty. Combated not being able to hear myself think by a) shouting and b) being amused by simply observing the girls at the next table, one of whom was trying very hard to have a good boogie. Well, it amused me for a couple of hours. We then were accused of being gay because we wouldn’t let some scrubber take Forlorn’s lady’s chair. Forlorn accused them of being extras from Crossroads. Somehow we survived intact. The noise became too much so we went back to Forlorn’s house (Bennie was off the drink so we 6 piled into his car) where his parents (who were up at 1) gave us some wine and pringles. When I am around Forlorn’s parents I become slightly Shaun Ryder-esque and have absolutely no control over my curses. Nipfler counted four accounts of inappropriate langage. Oh well, it was all done in good humour. (+30mins) Not too bad, ran slightly more smoothly than when we saw it, dear. Anyway, we left Forlorn and went to Bennie’s, dropping off Alf on the way. Nipfler went on the net to abuse some christians whilst I watched some tv. I forget what I watched but at about 4 Nipfler got bored with chatting, Bennie had gone to bed and so I took over from Nipfler whilst he collapsed on a couch. Under the guise of I_Rape_Kids99, I began to talk to an under-18 but she could drive and that’s all her parents would want her to tell me, American crazed religious nutcase and after we had got past the fact that she had climbed Cambridge Cathedral and lo! it is a pretty town indeed, I began to ask her why I should turn to god. By this time it was half past 5 and I wasn’t incredibly interested in the joke anymore. But I assured her that I would email her on Monday and I might, you never know. Maybe one day I’ll come close to understanding the inner workings of a raving American. I haven’t dreamt a memorable dream all weekend. Maybe something to do with the booze. And now Forlorn is back in Reading. I might go down there sometime, you never know. I think I told that girl my name…. hers was Kate, I think.

In ancient times there was a king who had three subjects and problems of a sexual matter. Due to his impotent ugliness he had devoted his life of romance to himself and the less costly end of the sex market. But after 45 years of erotic literature and explicit etchings he desired something else to quench his thirst. Or remove his thirst at least. Therefore he posed this request to his subjects – "Find something that will turn me on." It was a simple request but it filled his three subjects with abject fear and crematory. The first subject had been saving all his life and had just about enough money to hire a Scandinavian weathergirl. The weathergirl went round to the king’s chambers and found him lying on his bed, red faced, puffed up and excema skinned. She also found a map of England and ample sticky clouds and temperature markings. She detailed the weather for the next few days to the king, which he found very interesting, as he was due to ride to Kingswear the next day, but it was no turn on. The weathergirl then started to improvise random weather information (a limited scope) as she slowly took her clothes off but the king didn’t even raise an eyebrow, even when she made a weak analogy between crowded isobars and the Prussian revolution. So the first subject was hung. He regretted saving his money for all these years. The second subject hadn’t been saving his earnings but his grandmother had left him a leather cat suit and whip in her will and he had enough incentive to get Deidre from the Nag’s to dress up and entertain the king for an hour or so. So Deidre burst into the king’s chambers, cracked her whip and glanced at her lord and master, lying frustrated on his bed. Now she was lord and master. Well, lady and mistress anyway. The king perked up a little but was disappointed when no lions leapt in, ready to be tamed by this old woman in leather. Still the feel of cold leather on his colder chest did send a flicker of electricity down his spine and after the stroke, the second subject was only subjected to a firing squad rather than the nastier hanging scenario. The third subject had a plan which was risky, but following the failure of his colleagues, he felt it was worth a try. He got Mary, the sexy barmaid at the Nag’s and promised her all the wealth in the world if she would perform a simple act for him (and the king). Being a little naïve and dim, she trusted him and went along with the plan. The king heard a knock on his door and after he invited her in, Mary walked into his chamber, naked and carrying a flag and a lighter. I saw a frog on my way to the bus tonight, which reminded me of my midnight strolls to the Cavendish. Oh how fondly I remember walking along that bike path, clutching tight of my umbrella on those summer nights, jumping at every jump of the numerous toads hanging around. I could never differentiate between slugs and dog shit. Either way, I didn’t want to step on them. The naked beauty before him couldn’t stir the king’s loins but being confused by the flag, didn’t order the death of the third subject just yet. Mary stood to attention and shouted, "Fuck king and country!" and proceeded to burn the flag with the lighter. This outraged the king and he ordered the immediate death of this treasonous harlot followed by his third subject. The king was wheeled out into the courtyard so he could get a good view of the noose as Mary was executed. The girl was flung out onto the platform, still unclothed, stood on the chair and noosed. As the chair was flung from under her feet the king felt an intense tensing at the vision before him and couldn’t keep his eyes off Mary as she writhed her final writhes and breathed her final breaths. When she was pronounced dead the king was quickly wheeled to his chamber so he could deal with the tension. He proclaimed the glories of the third subject and ordered that he should be brought to him to receive a great reward. Unfortunately, the third subject had been hung whilst the king was in his chamber. Nevertheless, the subject was hailed as the creator of snuff and there were a lot more witch-hunts that year.

I think I may have deleted an email that was from you. I don't open anything I dont' recognize (viruses). So yeah, I deleted this acoplayse or whatever is that you? If so, make the subject something like Hi Kate, or don't delete this is your friend rob rich~! okay . I don't have a ton of time tonight, but I will be home tomorrow and we can talk or chat some time, I am really interested in finding out about and just giving you some tihngs to think about and stuff. If you can get a hold of a bible, I encourage you too. Try to find one that isn't in the King James Version, I can't read all those Thees And Thous!! Try to find and NIV or a student application bible. The library or a book store should have one, maybe you have one too. Check out my favorite verse Jeremiah 29:11. Talks about God's plan for you, it rocks!! Anyway, we will talk about that more later!! I can't wait to talk to you. Oh, and check out the whole book of Romans, if you are really interested in knowing about JEsus and finding out if you really do believe in him I will help you, we can study the scriptures together and stuff, I will try to explain, well this ended up being kinda longer than I thought so I should go, sorry if I deleted you, can you write back? Well hope to hear from you soon, Kate

(029:010 For thus saith the LORD, That after seventy years be accomplished at Babylon I will visit you, and perform my good word toward you, in causing you to return to this place.

029:011 For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

029:012 Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you.

029:013 And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.

029:014 And I will be found of you, saith the LORD: and I will turn away your captivity, and I will gather you from all the nations, and from all the places whither I have driven you, saith the LORD; and I will bring you again into the place whence I caused you to be carried away captive.

029:015 Because ye have said, The LORD hath raised us up prophets in Babylon;)

They say drink only heightens depression, well, I was in a god awful mood before I went out tonight and, five pints later I am as happy as a pig in muck. Whilst walking from the bus, I was in the mood for writing more, but Graham Norton is on now so I will continue tomorrow morning, not that I’d normally be up in the morning, oh the things I do – ps got munchies - is there anything nicer than salt and vinegar chipsticks followed by a penguin??? Actually this brambly pie is pretty nice pps Jesus, there’s a girl in the g.n. audience who looks just like Tori, she lives in England, quite possible……. shit, I’ve come to the point when I saw this show on Friday, perhaps time for munchie Sweet & Sour Chicken, off to the microwave…… god, it’s cold by the microwave (being in the outdoor but under perspex bit of the house), perhaps should put some trousers on when it’s time to stir, woooooo…….. ppps how much does g.n. mince? God, he’s worse than Simon….. pppps darling, you forgot the chocolates - Don’t eat them all, sorry ppppps Michael J Fox – he’s crazy!! So madcap pppppps that chicken was so not cooked, I’m gonna sue Safeway ppppppp it’s so sweet, yet it’s so, so, so sour…….. pppppppps for some reason my t-shirt has rubbed against my right nipple, I just had a look at my nipples and my right one is bigger than the other – now I know how it feels to be a woman who has just been maced in the left eye and then notices me…. ppppppppps sit Ubu sit, good dog pppppppppps American version of Who’s Line makes you realise that Clive Anderson isn’t as bad as he seems btw Greg Proops is v short, no wait he was tall, the microphone stand was short before he came on, although he might have been short, ugh poor memory. Ken Dodd is definitely short.ppppppppppps time for bed

Made a bit of a mistake last night – it seems that the Union is still quite eager to kick people out of the bar at 11 and so ordering a 4 pint pitcher of big JS at 10:35 is unwise, especially when drinking with a trio of drivers (it was like the Italian Job when we left, but with Polos) but I managed to get it down me even though Alf helped me out with a half pint (the beer was way above the 4pint line on the jug). I don’t understand Jordan, she’s supposed to be some kind of topless model but every time I see her she is always covering up her nipples. She is wearing nothing but a pair of hot pants and she gets shy? Stupid slut, deserves to be locked up. I ate four babybels last night in order to get some good dreamin’, but to no effect, grrrrrr. I woke up this morning and I hit the road. It was hard. I woke up repeating the words rolling pin over and over again. It did come up in conversation yesterday but to no real significance. Perhaps rolling pin is the answer to all life’s questions. Nick Cave album fantastic. HMV also has rereleased Jim O’Rourke, further 15 quid gone then. That bible basher has written again, she says she is very glad to have met me. She must like a challenge. She explained the whole Jeremiah 29:11 thing to me though and, oh how enlightened I am. Perhaps I might catch her on chat in the early hours of tomorrow morning as I assume I’ll be over at Bennie’s. She still insists I ought to read Romans. I was thinking about adverts and how you rarely see the same actors in different adverts. Therefore it only seems logical that an advert actor doesn’t get much work, therefore it can’t really be a great career path. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe. My paperclips are large. Late night poker was fantastic last night, Gentleman Liam got kicked out surprisingly quickly. Jesse May was on fine hilarious form and Nick Szenbeondno was his droll self – they are a fantastic double act, like love and marriage. Nipfler didn’t think I’d written that king story, I will always be underestimated. Bennie didn’t come out last night despite the presence of the lovely Miss E – he can be so foolish. The new Stereo MCs tune is so good. END

Usual amazing Saturday night, up at the civic, blast off! Whoosh. Jonesy’s in town for a few days (I’m tired of making up names for people now, not like many of you have met any of them), the Cam lifestyle apparently driving him insane, went round with a six foot pole smashing things up. Apparently, only attempted to smash up things that couldn’t be smashed up, so I assume no damage was done. So we met an hour before the rest (turned out to be hour and a half before Bennie et al showed up) and visited the Moon, he was shocked by the refurbishments, like us all. After the first drink, two twats from school came and sat next to us (one of them being the first footballer in the premier with an electronic tag, you fill in the blanks) and showed themselves to be the moronic idiots they always were – this and we didn’t even speak to them. So we drank up and moved on to the meeting place, sharpish. So Bennie brought Nipfler and Alf, Alf started talking to girls from school, two or prob three years younger than je. Turns out they remembered me, not name but that I was the one who played the trombone. I shouldn’t complain cause I only remembered the one as someone who played the horn with Sam (he’s back home soon too – yay). I recognised the other one, possibly played something like a clarinet or flute. Whatever. Oooh, and then the enigmatic Kloda arrived and he wanted to see the Moon so we quashed poss meet ups with Miss E and went and got pissed. Kloda wants to start drinking at 2 tomorrow because it’s 99p a Guinness but I’m not convinced. 9 hours of drinking is slightly ott. Besides, I like to sit around at home during the day, I’m a man of few needs. So we went to blast off and got drunker, Nipfler talking absolute rubbish to various people, Jonesy picking fights with anyone he could find. One of Bennie’s work pals was there with a munta friend of his. Jonesy told him not to bother with her because he wasn’t that ugly. This guy wasn’t chuffed. Nipfler calmed him down. Jonesy also asked a girl with her boyfriend if her companion was human or not. Then when Nipfler started tapping random people on the back as they walked past, Jonesy felt it would be funny to feel people’s arses as they went past. Gaw, that guy, he always takes it too far. Eventually went back to the Bennie Novotel with Nipfler and Bennie’s dad gave us some lager. Went on the internet and spoke to my good Oxford ridden chum, Russ for a while. Not sure how long. Estimates say 4 o’clock ish. I went to bed and thought about sex for a while.

Yesterday, I drank. Lots. It's all a bit of a blur really. Thus ends today's transmission.

Found out yesterday that my grand/great aunt (ie grandmother’s sister) committed suicide by drowning herself in the Dee. With good reason, but I shan’t go into that for one reason or another. I had romantic visions of a Victorian lady in billowing rags deliberating, in her little shack, the merits of life and concluding that it was not worth continuing, filling her pockets with rocks and leaping into the roaring river to end it all. But then I realised that my grandmother isn’t that old and so it all probably happened in the 40s or something. Not quite as romantic as I had hoped. I also had a bizarre sensation when I started diagnosing my 5 yr old cousin for personality characteristics – I classed her as A or C type but I would have to separate her from her mother for a while and then see how she reacted when she came back to differentiate. Since yesterday I have changed my mind even about this so, erm, probably an unreliable diagnosis. Was watching Graham Norton last night and they got some people in the streets of London to do Tarzan impressions. The second (who was called Russell and had a midlands accent and wore glasses and could possibly have looked like him were it not for my poor reception and the fact I wasn’t really paying great attention) guy who did it was, I’m semi-sure, my mate Russ – although he should be dissitating at the moment, not going out on nights in London. Anyway, it reminded me of a night in Oxford where we were in his flat watching porn and eating chicken with a spicy red sauce on it (tasty). Being a little drunk, having divulged in the vodka happy hour in the pub we visited, I was a little slippy with the chicken and so kept getting stainy sauce all over my shoes. So I went to the toilet every five minutes to wash my shoes and trousers to get the nasty red sauce off of me. Of course this prompted many raised eyebrows, but I promise, almost completely innocent. Every time I’ve visited Russ, we seem to attain a porn video from one of his housemates. Strange. Although, we had to settle with a Captain Scarlet video once. We kept getting calls off Forlorn that morning who had missed the last train home and was stuck in London with a six foot bisexual.

I want my life to be like a movie. I want the heartache, the troubles, the uncomfortable situations, the despair, I want the girl to reject me, I want to feel awful about that, I want to feel rage at the world for my own faults, I want to solve the extra-curricular problem, save the day, I want to say the right things at the right times, I want to say the wrong things at the right times, I want the girl to realise she was wrong, I want the police chief to congratulate me, I want my friends to hug me, I want the award money… but, well, I guess that doesn’t happen, you get all that stuff but the nice stuff gets misplaced or something – turns out that the police chief finds out that you got the wrong guy, turns out the girl was right the first time and you ended up saying all the wrong things at the wrong times. Life is like a movie, but the happy endings leave a lot untied. I was never a fan of cliffhangers. Or Cliffhanger. Awful film.

And now a word from our sponsors……

Ugh, well life has been really hard lately!! Man, stuff can be just so hard, but yeah, GOd is good, really he is the only thing pulling me through, I don't know how I am suppose to convince you, I just know that Jesus has proven himself to be true in my life, he is so real to me and he is always there, I don't know what to say beyond the fact that if you believe that we are just an accidenct of nature, I ask you where did nature come from? It is so intense, everything in Science, so incredible, I am in biology and I can't believe that people think that we are just made from empty space that turned into an atom and hydrogen fused together and on and on and on, that is was just a matter of chance adn that well we really have no purpose. I know there is a God. I know that Jesus is the only way to that GOd,. A lot of people ask "How can you be so sure when there are so many religions in the world?" I guess my answer is that Jesus Christ said that he was the Only way to the father(God) and that he was the son of God. Then he died and rose again to prove it IT is intense, it seems so ridiculous, but man, it is true that Jesus lives, all people minus atheist believe that, but anyway, also I think that JEsus is the only way because Christianity is the only religion that states (in the bible) THat if you don't accept What Jesus has done and who he is then there is an eternal consequence, no other religion speaks of that, so even if there were no God, then nothing really would matter anyway and so what we would just die and be in the ground. But if there is a God and Jesus Christ is the only way to him then I want to know him becuase in the end if He is real, then I dont' want to end up in Hell. Yeah know, I am not making a ton of sense i know, sorry, I am really just a little ugh, I dont' know, we should talk sometime, maybe I will be on Saturday night, @11 or so that is like what um 4 or five for you? Maybe I will be on earlier or something, I odn't know, it would be nice to talk but not likely! Well anyway, I will pray for you! Kate

Continued absence of dreary drinking yet thoughtless prose, scandinavian almost…. Green dealt, spent last few nights at (Richard) O’Neill’s, listening to a fat woman play rollin’ to death. Amazing how two nights can remind you why it’s best to go home on the last bus, but still, we had no school the next day, so why not? The wind is howling outside, I lay in bed for an hour, shivering, listening to the children of the night, or, more accurately, afternoon. Then my brother put Eminem on, so I decided to wake up. didn’t plan to get too drunk on Thursday, but it kind of happened. There was this fat girl from the year below there (the year below don’t seem to go out in town much) but she was with her new boyfriend who was even fatter than her. She had a light blue top on. Nipfler thought the fat guy was from Cambridge, I told him he wasn’t. Apparently Jonesy went psycho again on Monday, after our all day piss-up, banging his head on the tables of Richard O’Neill’s and going around saying he wanted to beat up a fat girl. Rumour has it that he had been rejected by someone but, erm, well I’m half glad I went home on the aforementioned last bus, although it would have been cool to see. He’s gone back to Cambridge now to finish his dissertation, I suspect he’ll only get worse. Oh well. After the moon, we tried the canal, because I promised Miss E we’d go, but the queue was too big and Kloda had trainers on anyway and I don’t like the canal, even though there were supposed to be cheap drinks so we went to O’Neill’s. Nipfler started talking to a 40 yr old Irish slapper who wanted to escape the admiration of some guys. Her friend started chatting to me but I ignored her. Then two girls sat by us which was only of interest because not only had they been on the bus on the way in, but they also showed up at the Moon (and beat me to getting served – grrr) and then showed up there. One of them had nice trainers on. We left, begrudgingly and had a fight with Bennie who was complaining about being knackered. Russ was online so he phoned up at 4 in the morn, so I spoke to him for a while whilst Nipfler played on email and Bennie tried to sleep. Apparently it wasn’t him on Graham Norton. But it was him who sent me an email trying to get me to phone school in order to speak to my old music teacher, who I hate. One out of two isn’t bad. There was a guy called Richard Neil in the Troma film last night. Sunburnt. Went to Minnesota’s last night and I stunned the crowds with some great shots. I stunned myself with some of them, especially as I hadn’t reached my four pint peak. I had my second pitcher of the holiday too. I wasn’t up at 4 or 5 on Saturday night.

Done the essay! Just got everything else to do, had a night in – watched comedy on TV, felt sorry for no.5 in the rocky horror line up, he looked really hurt. Listening to Automatic before my parents finally go to bed so I can go and watch a video. It’s been such a long time since I’ve listened, I forgot how wonderful it is. Even Everybody Hurts doesn’t grate as much as it usually does now it’s, erm, in the context of an album and all that. Sweetness Follows is still better though. Kloda has sorted out another all dayer tomorrow, although we’re not really starting until 5, so it’s a bit of a breather from last week. Nipfler might be putting off his return to Oxford in honour, we can but hope. Thinking about great albums to return to, I was just thinking about my copy of Rage Against The Machine, when I got it from Woolies in Merry Hill (when there was a Woolies in MH) from the bucket where they put all the tapes they lost the inlay cards to. It wasn’t especially cheap but times were hard (ie I was about 13 or 14 and so all my money was being pumped into that bloody internet venture, god what a mistake that was) and it was cheaper than buying it with the inlay card. Anyway, yeah, it had only just came out and I was very proud to be the first to own it (in 2B anyway) – Nipfler got it on CD pretty quick though. I didn’t have a CD player, being poor and that. Adam decided to borrow the tape during the Michaelmas term so consequently, I no longer own it. He also borrowed my Ten/Black Sunday tape as well, bastard. It seems that all the videos I owned were the ones which were lost, which is kind of annoying – Batman Returns, Clueless, edward, that REM video, erm, I’m sure there were many others but I’m stuck. I notice all Mum’s Onedin Line videos survived. God, Dad! Go to bed! I want to watch Woody Allen. I drank a lot of Cherry Coke tonight so I don’t think I’m gonna get to sleep. As my parents went out, I figured that’d I’d nick some of Dad’s whisky for a mixer but I didn’t realise that he hadn’t got any. Mum’s got some Tia Maria but I had a sniff of it and it brought back bad memories. I’m sure Forlorn used to drink it all the time. It took me months to convince Nipfler what the Star stood for in Me Kitten. Apparently it’s a Stones reference but I might have made that up. I once read Smash Hits and got the idea that the band were Irish. It was Nipfler who informed me otherwise.

oh, and before I go, Kate says hi.....

IT has still been a really hard time, things are really just crazy like, God is going to be doing something major in my town in just a little bit, adn right before God moves Satan likes to destroy everthing, so it is really hard right now.

So is Ray Winstone the second best gangster actor? If you’re Bazza, you would have replied ‘mais, oui’ to this but I disagreed. Unfortunately, I was paralytic at the time and apart from Pacino, the only other person I could think of was Di Niro and Bazza claimed that Winstone was better than he! Ah, sacrilege. Thus ended the now semi regular Monday Club excursion in the pub (well we’ve done it twice now). Nipfler stuck around another day and good old Mark, who allows me to take the piss from him, showed up for a while. We went to O’Neill’s yet again but somehow I managed not to buy a pint, drink three and look dazed. I even danced to something, something vaguely rocky, I don’t think it was rollin’ but it might have been. Lovely George Samuel came out too (poss to drown sorrows after the Albion loss) and it turns out he got pretty drunk (he was sick the next morning too) despite turning up later and leaving earlier than the hardcore few – he did drink a few doubles to ‘catch up.’ Alf wasn’t let in O’Neills due them not being keen on jogging trousers. Wow, I haven’t had any grammar complaints from Word yet, my english must be improving. I got a sports question right on the Millionairre quizzer too – "Where was Michael Owen born?" Their answer was incorrect, it being Chester, because he lived in the same village as my dad, that being definitely on the other side of the border. Wrexham would have been far more accurate. Went out with G.S. again last night with some guys from Cam. One of the ladies was not from Cam but rather Halesowen and she had the most gorgeous eyes. She also had a blue top. I bought a CD over the internet last Tuesday and it still hasn’t arrived, grrrrrrr. Better come before Sunday otherwise, erm, I guess mapa will have to forward it or something. Better return to work, mapa have gone to Brum today so I might get a bit of peace. There’s nothing more noisy than people trying to keep quiet. Oh yeah, I was on the bus home from Bazza’s yesterday and there was a teenager on there smoking dope – daylight on a single decker bus – crazy. Never seen anyone smoke on a single decker bus before and not usually during daylight even on the big buses. I wouldn’t have minded but I was feeling very fragile yesterday and cigarette smoke never helps my stomach stay steady. Anyway, yeah, work.

Well it did take me a fair while to realise that Jodie’s offer of retribution was just her idea of a joke but after the whole incident with the roses and the Gucci trainers, well I would have just about believed anything she could have said. I mean, who else would have known about the Prussian flea circus story? I swear, I only told three people about that night and one of them was my Snoopy mug. She must have taken ages to craft that shrine to the God of Duck Paintings – she knew I’d have been the only person to fall for that trick. But really, how much time must she have put into it? Duck Shrinesa are one thing but 20 storey condo blocks are another. I wonder how many authoritarians she had to sleep with to pull that one off. I start to think, since she has devoted so much time to my ultimate downfall, maybe this means that dep down she really loves me? It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for someone you completely detest. But that’s the can of worms I tend to release every time I think about what happened. I have to stop myself and say "If someone wants you dead, it’s a pretty good sign that they don’t actually love you." Maybe she loves me so much that it has gone beyond love and entered the realms of hate – how many long time married couples speak of wanting to kill each other? More than I can think of, I’m sure. But there isn’t a lot I can do about it now, she’s gone away and I think she’s given up her killing plans. Either way, I’m safe here in my artists’ commune and now that she’s teaching in Japan, she might start to get over me. Well, maybe eventually.

Ps Gucci is in the Word dictionary

Very confused of the days again this weekend as I stayed over at Bennie’s last night and he’s not gone to work today. I am also very confused because I woke up at 8:30 today (after approx. 4hrs sleep) and now that it’s half four in the afternoon, I am very puzzled because I feel like it should be at least 8 in the evening, I should be dousing myself in cheap aftershave and going to wait around my patch. But no, Countdown is on soon and although I associate William G. Stewart with renting, I am deterred. Has anyone noticed how many times the word please is said on 15-1? I was gonna count it today but I’m listening to music instead. 15-1 is bloody hard anyway. Countdown is better because you don’t theoretically need sound to play along at home but somehow, it loses a lot without listening to Whitely ramble on as the tumbleweeds float past. Anyway, Bennie has a new computer with CD writing stuff so last night, after I got bored with messing with his webcam, I spent a couple of hours burning the pick of his selection. I finally have CD copies of some classic 90s rock albums as well as a copy of a gift from a Welsh girl, tee hee. I’m gonna make a few more tonight, although chances are I might be a little tipsy by the time we get back to his. Come summer, I’ll be hitting that library and going ignore-copyright crazy. I’m off, Richard is calling and I have to think of something to write for the last post.

So I seem to have come to the end of this thing so therefore it would kind of make sense to make some kind of conclusion. This doesn’t seem to be the right thing to happen going on the somewhat erratic nature of what has happened, not very according to plan. So, especially going on what has happened tonight, it only seems right to go back. To an extent, a fair way back. Starting near the end, went out with Dean for a bit, first time I’ve seen him this holiday, first time I’ve seen him in a fair old whack too. Next back was a chance meeting with some of the more sporty teachers from school in the Moon, old Physics bloke shook hand, strange bloke who I never had much to do with was convinced that I hated him. He suggested that I used to walk around, head down, trying to ignore him. Admittedly, being that he was a sports teacher, I had very little love for him but compared to the other sports lot, he was one I hated less. Oh well, he did used to hang out with one of the music lot so maybe my hatred was passed on by proxy. Finally going way back I bumped into a certain Ms Beke, a very unlucky girl in that she was deemed intolerably ugly in the elitist atmosphere of our sixth form. She was also unlucky because I kind of liked her so she had to put with my company now and again. Ultimately, the reason I liked her was the reason I couldn’t stand her and that was that she was nice. We went on a Concert Band tour to Spain and I was supposed to sit next to her on the coach (for 30hrs) but in the end it turned out that, for reasons beyond my control, I ended up sitting next to Sam. My guilt ended towards the end of the tour when I realised what an arse kissing intolerably gumptious teacher’s pet she was towards my arch nemeses, the music staff. But still, last night she was very pleasant and it’s nice to catch up with people. Her brother didn’t recognise me when I approached him but I guess it’s been at least 5 or 6 years since he played third to my second and I suppose I’ve changed a little since then. Shockingly, the Bekes haven’t changed a bit – maybe a little less spotty but otherwise, erm, intact. I didn’t get to make my CDs last night, but I did it this evening instead, before going out with Bennie and Miss E for a farewell adieu… her mind seemed to be on other things. Hope she didn’t break up with her bf this morning. Well, if all was to plan, I would have sent this earlier but I didn’t get the chance, I’ll have to send it from Cam tomorrow (btw, I’m in Cam! Hi!!!!). But I assure you I wrote this before my last sleep of the hols and my last morning in this temp home.

Ps feel like there should be a series of cock-up clips during the credits but the spell checker was too quick for me to stumble FIN