Lessons from a provincial dickhead

I woke up at 1523h and checked my mouse trap. It was missing! I made myself a tea n’ dried milk and ate a couple bags o’ penguins (Buy 1 get 2 free).



Video 1. A lesson about how to act.

I go to get my lunchbox (made sandwich yester’) but what do I see when I peep under the bed but a little mouse with a trap round its conical face. It squeaks and I feel sorry for it so I let it go. It runs straight into my shoe (that explains a lot) and I reset the trap out side of it.



Figure 1. Mouse trap and shoe orientation.

When I get back from my day in the park, the job is finished. I take it out to the trash but on the way I notice it is a different mouse because I can tell by the eyebrows. I feel like that guy in Saving Private Ryan when he lets that German go and then later he kills his friend except not so strongly.



Video 2. A li’l tour o’ my quarters.

Yours with a damp right sock,

A portrait of a provincial dickhead

Walking down Hemel Hempstead high street in the half light of an autumn evening, the industrial estates rising upward against a violet-blue sky, is a pleasure unparallelled. Sexual ecstacy, the embrace of a fat woman, intellectual breakthrough, and moments of realisation and creativity are but hundreds and thousands to the Walls Cream of Cornish ice cream of sittin’ in Has Beans coffee shop with a coffee and two scoops of the aforementioned. x

The hotel where I lost my virginity.

A bottle of JD mate.

Just off Leighton Buzzard Road is where I go hunting on a Sunday.

the hum of a distant city
orange through leafless trees
looks like an eyelash

The gutter I vomit in.

– Oh yeah which way did you go?

– M25 at that hour?! Oh no, not a good idea mate.

Nice one mate,