SHIT...ITS ME AIN'T IT?

It was plenty of years ago that I was a young inspired artist at university (before I got involved with Mr Tennents and Mrs Strongbow Super and dropped out).

Now I am working 'for the man' and chasing the bastard pound like everyone else.... like I promised myself I would not. Seems the only bit of me that is the same as the old me is the bit that walks around in paint covered dungarees. I caught a glance of myself when I was going to the bank this morning. Too-rye-fuckin-ay, I look like bastard Kevin Rowland, or at least one of his bloody midnight runners.

This is not good.

I am also rumoured to own a garage and mend cars. (I quite like this rumour, albeit it is not true). Think I need to ditch them. Yes, definatley.

Well, its my last shift tonight. I have packed and weighed my suitcase and its well light considering I could probably dress most of the 200 relations that will be at the family reunion I am going to.

I ordered a new itrip for my pod as my old one does not fit. It SHOULD have been here by now but of course it's not. Its bound to arrive on Monday which is too late. I have tried to find someone with one that I could borrow (and they could have my new one come Monday) but I have had no joy. Tits. Need a new plan.

So, off to London tomorrow to meet Paul. Sugar T and the Swirls are on at the Kings Head so we're gonna go there then its an early 5.30am atart to go to Gatwick. 9 Hours to Calgary, 4 hours drive to Cabri...think I best not go too mad with the Tom Booze tomorrow or I'll be grim. Think I'll stick to Magners. Me and Winona Cider get on well.

Well, thats me...back on the 8th,
cheesey grater x