Pigeons are rats with wings - Proof of evolution

Last day at school....last day I set foot in a library

Whats up people?  Back again in 1 week?  It's as if I've actually got back into the blogging malarky.  We'll see how things go, don't start writing an obituary for this blog just yet.  I've actually made a video for this blog which I haven't done in a while and I know that it's some peoples favourite bit.  I put far too much effort into this sometimes, but I'm glad you appreciate it.  Anyway, in the words of Prince Phillip "On with the rest of the blog!"

People often say to me "David, your hair is mighty nice, but it does make you look like a 13 year old Polish immigrant" and to that I say' thank you' but die a little inside too.  I've had my hair this way for years.  I've experimented with different styles a few times.  I've thought of growing it, but I dont like that phase of it being between short and long, you know.....shlong.  Don't like the thought of being a skin head.  I'd lose all identity.  This is how I am.  But I have thought of ways of adding to that identity.  I've considered getting a can of superglue glued to my face to outline the dangers of adhesives.  I've considered growing a beard, a moustache and a tail but I just cant pull it off.  I've even dabbled with the whole concept of decapitation but that may be a little over the top.

Many of you know that I hate tattoos, simply because people get them under impulse and get stupid things like pathetic little stars in places that people can't see them and mean nothing.  Then you get people who think they're being deep and philosophical by getting phrases such as "live your dreams" or "Life is beauty" on them.  Shut up.  Nobody looks at you and says "oh how right they are!".  No point in whining though, they're stuck with it now.  Life is full of mistakes but like a true genius I've come up with a way of feeling better about yourself when things do go wrong.  You can write a song, go for a walk or cry.  But trust me, if you do this then it will work miracles.  Get....A...Lava Lamp!  Seriously, I've never met a suicide victim who owned a lava lamp....come to think of it, I've never met a suicide victim....hmmm.  The point remains however that you can gaze into one of these things for hours pondering the big questions such as "what is that lava made of?" and "it's in 5 little globs and OH MY GOD 2 OF THE GLOBS JUST BECAME ONE!" it's sure to make you cheer up.  And the possibilities are endless; divorcees may patch things up when they realise that super-heated globs can merge after such a turbulant journey, sharks may become less ill tempered and maybe all that Isreal and Palestine need is a lava lamp!

Whilst you're pondering these facts, feel free to watch the video I've made for you.  Not as long as the older ones but I'm sure you'll appreciate the effort.  From my brain and into yours, until next time chums.....

 

Walkin the mile, walkin the GREEN mile...

This should be classed as assault

Well hey there gang!  Again, haven't really written on here for a while but I've been given a lot of nice compliments by those who are missing it so thought I'd write back to you.  The pressures of being a blog celebrity are really starting to hit me - especially in London.  I can't go to the local shop to buy figs without being sworn at through loyalty.  I can't stand in line at McDonalds without having someone throw their McNuggets at my face through passion.  And I can't even walk down Fleet Street without a riot starting in my honour.  I do love my fans but calm the hell down!

So what's been going on.  That's me asking myself.  I'm not asking you.  I do not care about you.  If I cared about you then I'd be on your blog and not sat here typing on mine so you can get your fix.  Get a life.  I'm kidding of course.......you have no life.

Because that's not exploitation...

Went to Brighton with my girl a couple of weeks ago.  For those of you without knowledge of the UK or a working Gaydar, Brighton is (supposedly) the land of the homosexuals in the UK.  A little like the France of Europe.  To be fair it wasn't too different from Bournemouth in many regards....except I did pass a gay sauna and a road called Dyke street.  Come to think of it, I didn't see a single nun whilst I was there - strange.  We got to our hotel which was pretty decent for the price I paid.  Plus, it wasn't your run of the mill "I'm a hotel, I don't care what you think"places, no this one can read your mind and adjust itself to assist you.  I had a shower the night we got there and I notced 2 dispensers on the wall which looked to contain some sort of cleansing fluids.  But how could I be sure?  I immediately got out of the shower, bemused and befuddled and spent the rest of the night wondering "What if I had just gone for it and used them?  What if they contained nun repellant?" When we got home after the second day, low and behold....THE DISPENSERS NOW HAD LABELS ON THEM!  The hotel - it knew.

We spent some time on the pier and in the video arcade.  Now I do like arcades.  I like the pathetic thought that you are somehow "winning" when five 2p coins cascade out of the machine after you've put £5 in.  What I don't like is when you go to a machine, you spend about 2 minutes there and suddenly your scent has been picked up.  Along flock the gaggle of annoying kids who stand there gazing at me playing.  Hoping that I'm going to go "Oh here, take some of MY money and spend it yourself you annoying little tax man", and they think they will get this reward by trying to give me advice on a bloody 2p machine!!!  "Oh you need to time it right"  OH IS THAT HOW IT WORKS?!  WELL THANKS FOR SAVING ME SO MUCH TIME AND MONEY THERE NEWTON!  I WAS MAKING THE MISTAKE OF JUST BITING THE WINDOW IN THE HOPE THAT A COIN WOULD FALL!  GO AWAY YOU ANNOYING TWERPS!!!

The sea.......that's it

And back to a normal heartrate.  My girlfirend and I spent our final hour in Brighton on the new observation wheel they have there.  I don't really like heights and I'm not sure that the fact that it's new is good or bad.  Is it good because it means all the parts aren't worn and work brilliantly?  Or is it bad because maybe they haven't spotted a fatal design flaw yet?  Maybe budget cuts meant they only had enough rivetts to hold it together for 1,486 rotations and then I jump on at the next one and hey presto I'm on a stray hub cap flying down a motorway.  Pretty much a pointless argument because nothing bad happened.  But I do wonder why they place observaitonal things near the sea.  The wheel, telescopes etc.  Other than perhaps the sky, the sea has got to be one of the most mundane, boring places to "observe".  Yes it's relaxing for a bit and a nice view until a kid on a rubber dinghy gets caught by a rip-tide, but all in all....it's just water.  I don't get my binoculars and stare into a bottle of Volvic for half an hour.  And people say things like "oh theres something about being by the sea"....well what the hell does that mean?  Theres something about being in a sauna full of gay men, theres something about being in an arcade with a lot of potential punching targets, theres bloody something about Mary!  Don't just say stupid things like that! 

Well enough ranting for one evening.  I hope you're all having a nice time in your own little lives (when you're not dying to know about mine).  I'm sure I'll be back before long.  Alfie De Zane!

The Dutch love tulips, drugs and blogs.

Cheeky Chappies :)

Well well well.  Here we are again.  New year, new era for the blog.  I haven't made a blog since the last week of August and yes I am sorry but I've struggled for time and for want of a better excuse, effort.  But I'm back now and ready to fulfill your lives with your regular dose of my life!  I know you're already drooling at the prospect, so let's get going shall we?                                      Yes, lets

Right so I am well into my work placement now.  Been at the company for 6 months now and still really enjoying it.  A lot like a fat kid likes cake, or a cruiseliner loves rock.  (touchy subject that, I think I'll leave it, I don't want to make waves).  Working in London is getting to me though.  Got on my bus home yesterday and there were about 10 chavvy kids being rowdy at the back.  They can't have been older than 12 but they were having their own little London riot in the back row.  They got off the bus a few stops down and then threw stuff as we drove off.  It made me sad that this country is littered with these pre-pubescent punks that ruined an otherwise delightful day for myself.  So here is my remedy (in list for of course):

1. Officially change each of their names : Now think about it, 'Johnny Hornsworth' isn't going to be quite so hard when he's suddenly turned into 'Eugene Calculus' and 'Chelsi Stott' turns into "Pinot Noir the 3rd" 
2. Ultra-vibrating vocal chords:  This causes any mouthy whatsit to sound like a right muppet by causing his voice to sound like he's constantly driving over speed bumps.  He's not going to be shouting abuse at Pensioners anymore.
3. Remove all innapropriate housing:  78% of all chavs stem from houses populated with far too many brothers and sisters and therefore less discipline and food.  The old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn't know what to do (other than use contraception).  Therefore I dub that all forms of footwear shall no longer be allowed for accommodation purposes, be they High-Top houses or Flat flats.
4. Dress code for sports shops:  If we make it so that you can only get access to JJB and SportsDirect by wearing clothes OTHER than what they already sell such as a waistcoat, top hat and maybe some trousers that have absolutely no arse revealage, people who gain access may slowly become more upperclass and less annoying...just a theory.\

This weekend my girlfriend and I are heading back to Cambs to see the local Panto which I previously performed in for 4 years.  I may have left but my Mum is still treading the boards.  Panto is great.  Nowhere else can you dress up as a girl and have people shouting "HE'S BEHIND YOU" without having to file a police report.  What I don't like about panto is that it causes disagreements.  You can tell someone a fact and then somebody who clearly doesn't understand the situation will just shout "OH NO HE ISN'T!" and we're then forced to repeat ourselves.  Ignorance has no place in a theatre.  Nonetheless I am looking forward to it.  Going back to Cambs is always special.  I get to go back to the nothingness which is the village of Upwood where I used to live.  Nothingness may be a overstatement, there was once a sighting of a feather.  An old folk tale dictates that Jesus was once spotted in the local church, actually spotted praying to himself.  He's either extremely arrogant or making a rather ironic statement.  Come to think of it...if you had been nailed to a cross and executed, why would that cross be a good thing to represent your religion?  Probably the last thing you'd want to see would be the instrument of torture used to kill you.  It's like the congregation are mocking you.  I mean imagine if JFK was God and people wore a gold rifle on their necklaces, see my point?

So there we go guys.  Hope that will get you back into the swing of things.  You'll be hearing from me again soon  Biffos!

 

 

A petal is smart but the buds wiser

I used to be Japanese until Kodak fired me...

Welcome back my little stalkers!  That's all you are essentially.  You follow me, finding out little facts about my life and just hoping to get some incriminating gossip to sell to the papers.  I'm not falling for that again, not after my phone got hacked!  Mind you this blog has got to 8 new countries since my last post so it's not like I need the publicity anyway.  ONTO BLOG HEAVEN....

Right so I've moved out of Bournemouth.  Spent a couple of days doing some hardcore cleaning.  Some of you are unaware of how cleaning works so let me explain it in a mathematical equation.  1 House minus dirt which was added and is now multiplying bacteria equals xy (clean house)  and the division of labour between the factors involed means 1 is subtracting the root of weeds and the other is ensuring there is no pi stains on the carpet and that the house is in the standing up position...or the RIGHT angle.  Simple really.  My enchantment of a Mother came to help... I say help, I mean more like save us.  We packed all my stuff in the car; tv, clothes, map of middle earth, girlfriend and my collection of Norwegian egg cups.  Unfortunately I couldnt fit in the car though, and my Mum still doesn't think I'm old enough to ride in the glovebox so I had to catch the coach to London.  Couldn't be bothered waiting for a connecting bus back to my house, so I ordered a strategic human transportation device...or taxi as the Scotsmen call them.

There are too many fat people annoying me.  Fat people annoy me in general simply because their bellow lungs consume twice as much oxygen as mine but they don't pay any extra.  I'm not talking about people who are just a little larger than others, I'm talking about the Jupiters of the human solar system.  Lately they've really been bugging me.  Some annoy me on the escalators at the tube stations.  They say stand on the right to let people walking up the steps pass on the left, this doesnt apply to the flub brigade though as they not only take up the whole width of the walkway but also droop over 3 steps so no matter where I stand, their chub is still in mace face.  Then it's rush hour and their bloated wisdom takes up half the bloody carriage on the train.  Pointless having a section for elderly and disabled people to sit when Shamoo has declared his own section.  Thusforth I have devised a step by step guide to help our lard enriched brothers live a healthy life without fear of being harpooned...

1. Buy a hammock, all podgy peeps like a hammock.  But replace the netting with cheese wire so that chunks of flub with just fall through it.  Kind of like an industrial sieve.
2. Confiscate all mobile phones from the butter bellies and replace them with morse code transmitters.  They may be ordering pizza but the constant tapping will cause them to lose weight in their index fingers in days.
3. Remove all calendars from their houses.  If Chub Norris hasn't got his eye set on Christmas Dinner, he might decide to stop practising for it.
4. Try my new invention.  It's a mirror which enhances Fatorexia™.  A gibbly gump who looks into the mirror will see a skinny good looking version of themselves.  This causes them to go into Fatolemia™ where they purge all their gastric gunk out to leave them with the body of a Greek god.

So there you go, my comprehensive, handy dandy guide to weight loss.  I hope people dont start stealing gates or taking offence (little joke there).  It's not mean, it's true, and if you don't like it, then go back to looking up techniques on how to free your belly from being trapped under the table you're sat at.

So there you go buddys.  So mildly insulting trivia for you to feast on, but not too much now or you'll need to take that step by step guide yourself.  Catch you soon chickadees

The city life begins!!!

Left: My sister.  Right: My girl. Centre: Blog Hero!

 

Now it may have been a while since my last blog and I do apologise, but I know you haven't forgotten about me have you?  Of course not, infact this blog has hit 4 more countries since my last post so I know you've all done your duty and spread this faster than cholera through a mining community.  But enough about disease and death, I'M FINALLY IN LONDON!  I'm well into my fourth week of my work placement and I'm loving it.  I wish I could tell you all about it....and I will.

Right chums.  So I moved to Oxford for 1 week, it was originally going to be a month, then 2 weeks and then they decided it would just be a week but that's fine.  I stayed in a house supplied by the company with the other interns, I felt like I was on the apprentice, living with the other candidates (except without the hate, deceit and free food).  I got to grips with the work and started to bond with my co-workers.  I say 'bond', more like work my magic of annoyance to ensure that when I'm gone that they'll remember me by being "that irritating little twerp who wouldn't shut the hell up".  I did it at uni, I did it at the co-op and now the wonder of David Honour the 4th has come to shake stuff up in my new workplace.  After the second week, they had a night out for the staff.  Totally immense.  We went up the Thames on a private boat with free bar, food and DJ.  Follow that up with heavy drinking and trademark dancing to Shakira in a club along with some decent winning at the casino and I think you'll agree that it was a brilliant start to my career.  When they looked at my CV, I'm sure that it was the section within my qualities entitled "Ability to dance like an epileptic grasshopper" that won them over. 

The work itself is also good fun, but it's the bits around the work that are best.  Such as the opportunities I get to wind up my manager.  I may be subbordinate, but I'm still a cheeky little devil with way too much enthusiasm considering I wake up at 6:30am to get there and the first thing I do is say something ingenious like "Remember, you don't have to be a farmer to be outstanding in your own field".  I think it's suitable that a co-worker has dubbed me 'Head of Motivation'.  What I lack in height, I make up for in annoyance, energy and of course good looks - it's all good for morale.  However, I have set out some targets for the year whilst I am working there, I'm sure you'd like to hear them.  WELL TOUGH!! I need to go to the toilet first.................................................................................................................................................................................................. Ok I'm back, thank you for waiting.  Right so my targets for the year are as follows;

1. Become an alcoholic - If the people on the tube look and sound like they spend most of their time licking the pavement for a source of food after spending all their money on Lambrini then I'd like to blend in.
2. Install a new computer system - Not to replace the current one, but so we can all have an extra computer to punch when our normal one messes up.
3. Persuade my manager to introduce a show & tell day - I for one would be interested to see the designs of everyone elses toothbrushes one week.
4. Invest in the stock market - Looking at the NASDAQ in the current climate against the current rate of 10234.43 means that stock should be bought against the HANG SENG for 3532.59.  I haven't a clue but it sounds so cool when you say it.

 You may also be interested to know that it is officially goodbye Bournemouth after this weekend.  Heading back there Friday night to sort the house out before moving everything up here on Sunday.  A lot of things need doing such as the removal of road signs and traffic control barriers from our garden, re-attaching doors to their frames and putting the roof back on.  The place needs a lot of work, think I may place an ad in the local paper for assistance "Bournemouth Council - If you want your road signs back, get round to my house and get it not only spick but more importantly span!"  That should do the trick.  If all else fails then I'm going to have to use the good old fashioned elbow grease (which isn't a type of cooking oil as I found out in the burns unit of Bournemouth hospital).  If anybody wants to lend a helping hand then that would be greatly appreciated, but it must be a helping hand, I don't want anyone lending a do-nothing hand!  Infact, all hands will be inspected to deduce helpfulness upon entry to my house.  Sort it out.

Well there you go buddys!  The blog is back.  I can't promise that I will back to my normal routine of 2 per week as this job is actually...work now!  Not only that but I STILL haven't received a birthday present from some of my readers so I'm not sure you should be treated so much until I get them.  Here's a new video for you though, enjoy my loyal bloggies!!

Return of the Blog 3: The other side of the till

I've hung up my badges for good

C'or you do get spoilt, yet aNOTHER blog for you to feast upon already.  Don't get used to it though, who knows I could just take a leaf from the teachers book and go on strike too...my pension scheme isn't particularly glamourous either you know!  This is the 3rd and final blog of my comeback, returning to the normal rhythm of Mondays and Fridays after this, not sure about this Friday however.  This Friday is the long awaited day when I head up to Oxford to begin my training for my placement.  Got an email today though which said that I will only stay there for 2 weeks, not a month as previously expected.  Looks like some busy times ahead; moving to Oxford, moving to London, blogging and tickling amputees.

So last Saturday was my last shift at the Co-Op.  It was a big wretch to leave I admit.  I've given that store 8 months of work and in return they've given me some really good memories, laughs and some great new friendships....oh and money....oh and 10% off purchases.  Whether its watching the security guard smash a shoplifter against the ice cream cooler with his head bleeding onto the floor, or coming up with nicknames for customers such as 'Venus Fly-Trap' and 'Smarmy', or simply watching your friend getting chatted up by a senior citizen...every shift promised something entertaining.  But life away from the panic button is so much more boring now, I want one more argument with an unruly customer, I want one more drunken fool to come in and argue with the Dorito's and headbut the 'Wet Floor' sign.  At the end of my shift I found myself begging "Let me serve just one more customer...don't take my badge!!", to anybody else it sounds insane, but I really did like that job a lot.  If you can't smile and show you're enjoying your work then you'll find that the shift takes longer and isn't very fun.  So I encourage all workers to wear a jolly face and be more upbeat...unless you're an undertaker.

Drinking on the job

Times change though and you have to move on.  I'm afraid that shop will have to try and cope without me now.  Not sure they'll be able to replace me though, not completely.  Who else would mince around the store, impersonating customers, winding up the supervisors by calling one of them "Dianne" just to annoy him for the whole time I worked there?  But don't you start thinking that I wasn't a good worker, I was superfantastic at reducterising the price of manky old products that nobody wants to buy (but who can say no to some stanky green steak covered in mould when its only 21p?) I could stock milk like a master (even stray cats were amazed by my milk handling abilities) and I could take longer breaks than anybody else.  You wanna try and replace me?  Good luck but you'll find yourself crying by the bins when you realise that you've lost the best and most awe-inspiringly good looking and productive worker you ever had.  Ok so maybe not the best looking EVER, but definately the best looking ever since Gordon Brown stopped working there.

Too cheery to work at the Co-op?

Final day went well though, until one customer came in.  He visited just to say hello on my final shift.  After I'd finished baggin his shopping and giving him his change, he shook my hand and said "It's been a pleasure meeting you, you're a credit to your parents, you really are"  he then took some beer out of his shopping bag and gave it to me.  I was so taken aback that I couldn't focus for a while.  It really actually meant a lot, that I had actually made a difference to that man, he came in just to see me and then did that.  Wow.  It's something that I will never forget and it was a great end to my final shift.  If that man ever finds himself reading this blog, I just want to say thank you and I hope you are well.  Like I said earlier, you can make your work better by wearing a smile and being upbeat, you can have a good time by making good friendships with your co-workers, but it can be those that you affect with your work and your spirit throughout that can really lift your day.  I'm proud of how I conducted myself during my work, no matter how much pratting around I did, I was professional when I needed to be and respectful to everyone.  I may have finished my time there, but I'm taking that knowledge with me.

So I thought that I'd pick up the tone a bit by uploading a video that I recorded tonight.  I went to the beach in the middle of the night with my girlfriend and 2 of my friends from the Co-op.  We got bored so we decided to show my girlfriend what it is like to be dead...so we buried her.

Next week - Cremation

Return of the Blog 2: Espana

My sister, myself and Quasi doing 'The Robot'

You lucky flip-flops!  Getting 2 blogs in one day, I sure do spoil you sometimes.  Think maybe I should stop your pocket money for a month to balance things out, but then again you're still late on buying my birthday present!  Sheesh!  Rude.  Ok so second of my comeback blogs, this one is about my trip to Spain with the girlfriend to go and see my Dad, Grandmother and Sister whom doth reside there.  As usual I kept the dates, flight times and airports a secret from y'all because I know you'd all want an autograph and a sneaky photo with me.  I mean I do love you my loyal blog readers but I'm just simply better than you...wheres your blog? hmm?!

Airport or corner shop?

The date was 19th June (also known as my birthday).  The location, Bournemouth Airport.  Ah now Bournemouth Airport is a joy to behold it really is.  It's sat there in the middle of a field trying to be a big boy airport, but you have to feel sorry for it when you walk in and nobody is there except for a guy serving coffee...to nobody.  It has about 8 flights throughout the whole day but still thinks it needs 6 departure gates, bless, it wants to be a Heathrow so badly!  Alas this wasn't going to be any ordinary flight.  I've flown alone, with my girlfriend and sisters, with my little brat niece and nephews but this time I was flying with my treat of a Grandmother.  She really is something.  Strapped into her wheelchair we whisked her through security where they were fixated on scanning the steel frame with a METAL DETECTOR "yes....it's definately a wheelchair and not some sort of suitcase bomb"  thank you Batman!  We then sat and chilled out with a beer each and waited for one of Ryanair's death tubes to hurtle onto the runway...late too.

The Spanish can only get a suntan round their eyes

Now being with my Nan in a wheelchair has its benefits in some scenarios, not like wandering through the Calahari desert or riding the dodgems, but most certainly in an airport.  We got guaranteed seats next to each other at the front of the plane and a VIP entrance to it.  We got into the back of a van that lifted us into the plane after everyone else, they all clapped and cheered at our entrance, maybe because they were sick of waiting but most likely because they were amazed to see a living blog legend in their midst.  We went vertically upwards towards the sky and above the ground or 'flying' as the kids call it nowadays.  Bit annoyed that Nan demanded the window seat because I like looking at the sea below and imaging crashing into it and thinking about blowing bubbles in the water for days on end.  Landing in Malaga was smooth and non-fatal which was good.  My Dad picked us up and we headed off.

Turns out that grass is the curer of all illnesses!

We stopped at the bar where my sister works and was welcomed by the locals singing Happy Birthday to me.  Very nice way to start off the week.  My girfriend got spoilt rotten during that week, as if a night together in the hot tub with wine and a massive inflatable screen set up by my Dad so we could watch the apprentice wasn't enough she also got to sample San Juan.  San Juan is nuts, it really is.  I wasn't really paying much attention to what my Dad was saying about it but it has something to do with running into the sea to wash your feet then throwing wishes onto a fire that was buring that statue of Quasi (pictured above) because they dont like moustaches or something.  I'll look it up but I think I'm pretty close.  Then a couple of nights later me and Sarah went back to the bar where my sister works to have a meal together to celebrate our 1 year anniversary, paid for by my sister and her boyfriend.  We were given a specially laid out table and free champagne from the owner.  People can be nice after all.

Overall it was a delightful trip, except for the landing on the return journey.  Apprently, Ryanair don't inform their pilots that the planes need to stop before the end of the runways.  We slammed into the tarmac and he smashed on the brakes bloody hard, but not hard enough to stop him missing his turning off the end of the runway meaning he had to turn right around.  If anybody had clapped at the end of that flight then I would have gladly shoved them in the overhead locker...with an irate koala to scratch him.  See this previous blog for full details Click Here.

All for now BliffleBlurgs but heres something that will keep you cheery until next time.  It's just my sister hitting her ex boyfriend over the head with a baking tray XD

Return of the Blog 1: The Girl and the ball

Shhh...We're mimes

Sorry!Sorry!Sorry!Sorry!Sorry!Sorry!Sorry!  Yes I know this blog has been on hiatus for a good while now.  No excuse really other than too much has been going on and I haven't really had the time to do them.  Some of these blogs can take the best of 3 hours to complete if there is a video with them, therefore I'm going to be giving you a few at once with only 1 video.  So much has happened since my last blog, this one will go into the beginning of this break.  When my girlfriend came back from America to move over here.

Ok so, the setting.  It was a dark and gloomy night, and all was quiet.  Nah I lie, it was a beautiful day in Bournemouth, birds be chirpin and kids be playing harmonicas.  I boarded my coach to Heathrow and off I went into the abyss.  I got there far too early because as my girlfriend had randomly decided to fly with an Icelandic airline...AN ICELANDIC AIRLINE?!  Why?  Iceland just cause far too many problems.  With their arrogant volcanoes that just decide to erupt in my face when I need to catch a plane and their woeful economic status, seriously their currency is called the Krona which last time I checked was a rather refreshing beer.  The staff at this airline must be unhappy by being paid in lager so they decided to strike meaning that her flight was LAAATE by a good couple of hours.  It's fine though I just sat in the terminal dressed as a pilot and pretending to write a suicide note, the looks on the passengers faces was priceless, ever so funny but I guess you kinda had to be there.

Spent a good hour on the beach before I got my coach

So I waited and waited some more, then with my crushed and ever so rapidly dying bouqet of roses in hand she appeared.  But huzzah a new issue!  We'd missed our coach and would have to pay £82 to get the next one.  But me being as awesome as I am managed to use the old Honour charm and persuaded the ticket lady to give us 2 free tickets, yes I know I'm a hero...think maybe she was a fan of this blog.  So thank you Mrs Goggins, you get a very rare mention on the blog, something that my many other fans lust for day and night.  Got home, went to bed and prepared for the next day..by sleeping.  I awoke from thy slumber in a daze.  For it was not an ordinary day, twas the day of the Summer Ball with another 7,000 set to be in attendance!

Now as you can see from the picture at the top, we decided to go as mimes.  I thought this was a good idea as it meant that I didn't have to spend all 10 hours at the ball talking to idiots about my costume, I could just pretend I was living in a box and weeping an invisible tear...reminds me of my childhood actually.  We got there early and wandered the grounds, munching on crepes, and slurping on jagerbombs.  There were a few other mimes there too, we woulda gone to chat with them but...we're mimes.  We waited for nightfall to arrive so we could watch Hadouken! play.  They were insane.  It was my girfriends first ever gig and she was in the thick of it, at the front, crushed between people, dehydrated and getting thrown about.  She loved it.  After that we ate more crepes and took the night as it came.  Was a brilliant night and cant wait until the next one. 

So thats the first part of what's been going on through this blog drought.  Heres a montage of the ball so you can see what it was like.  Check out Hadouken!

 

Is a locksmith a keyhole surgeon?

Toon Family XD

Probably best to start off with a witticism...whats the point in the signs that say "No Dogs except guide dogs"?  The dog cant read it and neither can the bind guy. Thats a fraction of my family in that pic on the left by the way.  A delightful bunch but they don't talk to each other anymore, ever since I wrote my will stating that some will get my stamp collections and the rest will get my huge amount of wealth.  So arguments started about how they are going to kill me.  Some wanted to stage a hippo attack, whilst the rest wanted to arrange for a German cucumber salad to poison me.  Although my lack of death is benefitting them as I'm still adding lots more stamps to that collection.

Can a leopard change its spots?  Of course if it has the money and the number of a good cosmetic surgeon.  So this is the penultimate blog before Sarah gets here Friday night.  Again to save myself from autograph hunters I'm not saying what airport,  flight or time she'll be on.  Probably should tidy my room before she gets here.  I like it messy though, it's fun to challenge yourself to cross the room without treading on cans, clothes and dead rats, getting quite good at it now.  Had a call from Al-Qaeda though as they're interested in using my cluttered room as a hiding place for their new leader.  I let him stay here for a few days to see if it would work but I cant see it happening.  His bloody backpacks take up so much room and he never does the dishes,  on top of that I cant understand what he's saying!  Would probably freak my girlfriend out too, unless I just keep him hidden and just claim that it's me yelling "Allah!" at random times during the night.  She knows I'm a randomist, so she might just go along with it.  We'll see.

Less than a month until I finish working at the Co-Op.  I'm actually going to miss that place I think.  I've made some pretty good friends there and had some pretty good times.  Nothing like fooling a scammer, busting a shoplifter and running around pretending you a have a laser.  I think that's a job that everyone should try once in their lifetime, honestly.  I've said all along that if my life was cushty and I had a lot of money, I'd have no problem working there just to have something to do.  I'd love to make my own store though.  "Mr Honour's Goody Emporium!"  and I'd operate it slightly differently, you pay £30 up front at the door and then can get 10 items free and leave.  Sounds strange doesn't it, but think about it, people have to buy petty things like bread and milk, in which case I'll make a significant profit on it, even if they do buy loads of alcohol for virtually nothing....trust me, it WILL work. I'll show you!  You'll see!  Where's your shop then?  How well is that doing?  Exactly, so shut up!  Sheesh when did my bloggy readers become so mouthy?!  Give me 20 years and my emporium will be all over the country...except sunderland ofcourse.  My store is ethical but it's not stupid.

Right so let me explain this next video.  This is a montage of videos that I recorded from my first year at uni in our halls.  Hurn House.  The crappest halls by far in terms of facilities and the look of the place, but by far the best social life.  18 students on each floor, means 17 instant friends and never a dull moment.  We got away with murder in that place, you'll see what went on in the video, although most of it is just my friend who's been locked out of his room naked...enjoy blugalugs!  I think I've cut it together quite nicely XD

If time is a drug then Big Ben is a giant needle injecting it into the sky

Rat Dog

Guess who's back...back again.  Allo!  Hope everyone is ok.  Apologies for the less upbeat tone in last weeks blog, stuff was just bugging me.  However, I'm fine now and raring to go with a new superdeluper blog of giddyness and zing!  Calm down though, be patient and I'll get to it.  Can people stop asking me to do shout outs please, I don't tend to mention specific people in my blog unless I think it's absolutely necessary.  I know if I do a shout out for one person then I'll have to do it for you all, then the blog will be very boring.  Sorry but that's my policy.  You've got a better chance of being raptured on October 21st.  Oh Mr Camping, you are funny.

Verrry busy month ahead.  June is always an insane month for me.  Currently my plans involve; picking my girlfriend up to start her life here in the UK, go to the Summer Ball which should be insane, go to Spain to see my family over there, finalise my housing arrangements in London and start getting ready to move to Oxford for my month of training.  A lot.  But add to that my other standard activities of taming a jackal, recording my own sitcom and writing my weekly love letters to Lightning from Gladiators.  Hectic.  But at the end of the day I can get home, jump into the tub with my Tesco value bubble bath, chow down on the sumptuous delicate cuisine of a £1 quiche and relax listening to the music of Vivaldi on my Fisher-Price cassette player.  Now isn't that just perfection?  I know you're all probably jealous of my delicately balanced lifestyle of work, rest and play but we can't all be a superstar stud-muffin can we?

Had an awful shift at work today.  Got a terrible backache.  Most likely from necktorectomy I had earlier.  I know you're thinking "Dave?!  You removed you neck??  But after your eyes, tongue and spare ribs, that's the best part of you!"  I'm afraid it had to be done.  You see I keep getting really hungry at random times, and I though a good remedy for getting rid of my food cravings is to make the journey from mouth to stomach shorter, thus satisfying my linger of hunger faster.  There are downfalls to this however, for example should I get knocked unconscious by a crazed yak with an anger management problem, without my neck and because my wrists are covered by my sweatbands there is no way of checking my pulse.  Therefore I have prepared myself for the possibility of being buried alive, I shall take the following items with me at all times...

1. Dog - Companion and as it will probably die before me, will make a rather comfy pillow.
2. Packet of M&Ms - I can challenge myself to guess the colour in the dark
3. Sudoku challenge book - Endless fun for days
4. Guide to coping with claustrophobia - For reference
5. First aid kit - I may be dying shortly, but I still dont want a niggling paper-cut distrupting my fun.
6. Gun - Don't want any other premature corpses trying to steal my M&Ms and my oxygen.

All in all, the necktorectomy has both its advantages and disadvantages,  I may be buried alive but at least I wont be bored.

It's bloody hot!!  Well compared to how it has been lately.  Just being sat in my room makes me sweat more than Lucifer in a sauna.  I'm not too sure about this global warming malarky though.  They claim it's a huge problem and that we must act now to stop it getting worse.  But think about it, do you not think that our friends the Eskimo's (sorry, got to be PC here - Inuit's) really mind about global warming?  They're stuck on a terrain of ice.  Nothing to eat but Ice Cream, nothing to drink but Iced Tea.  Nothing to do but Ice skate and no music to listen to except Vanilla Ice.  BORING!  So bring on global warming, make this earth more bloody fun!!  I for one would love to see the sea levels rise a teensy bit so it engulfs sunderland and not Newcastle.  I want hurricanes to blow away the chavs littering the streets.  I want to see volcanoes erupt into oncoming planes so that when it lands safely then the passengers have a REAL reason to clap.  I hate passengers on planes who clap the pilot after every bloody landing, really does my head in.  He's just doing his job, if he didn't you'd be dead.  You don't call for an encore everytime your bus driver pulls into the depot do you?  I get so wound up by these happy clappies that I get tempted to just take it to a whole new level, following them through the airport, applauding the guys at passport control for correct use of the stamp, cheering for the security guys for feeling me up properly, and giving the baggage trolley a big hand for not exploding.  Ridiculous.

Enough ranting, time for bed me thinks.  I always write these very late at night, but that's when I'm in the zone for spitting out drivvel - I know you love it.  Unfortunately no video tonight as my latest one needs a re-edit.  It's filmed and everything, just needs a few things sorted.  However feel free to browse the archive of past blogs for your pleasure.  Much love Blurg Blecks!