The annual search for work has been creeping on for six months now, and has only just shown signs of abating. And so the sad stories fill the void, as I stumble around the internet like a man looking for something he lost in the street a year ago, sure that if he keeps looking in the gutters and gulleys, he'll find it. I find myself asking some searching questions, like "What is a Jessie J?" or "Who the fuck are Fun and why are they not?" and finally "I could swear I had that tuneless cunt Jason Mraz rubbed out by a hit man a year ago, look, I have the receipt....."
Fuck me! I haven't even mentioned Coldplay yet.......
Am I the only one who thinks Chris Martin isn't so much a post-millenial Bono, as much as a delusional 'The Police' fan and Gordon Sumner Acolyte, right down to the fuckin album names: Viva La Vida = Outlandos d'amour? I thought Myloto Xyloto was their attempt to go one further and quote some Esperanto....... Sadly, it was just a semi random mishmash of vowels and consonants arranged skilfully to look like it might be derived from a foreign language. I was most disappointed.
Bugri min purpuro!
. .........and so, winter gives way to Spring. The waterways are starting to look quite the thing, what with the ferns unfolding and lilly pads bobbing about at the side of the canal. Mother and her ducks are venturing forth, with swan couples not far behind, and coots, grebe's and cormorants adding to the mix. Mr Heron fishes in the ponds, weirs and reed beds and for those with a keen eye and a bit of luck, there may just be a chance meeting with the lesser spotted urban roe-deer. There's nothing better than a good jant along the tow paths and walkways of yr local canal or river.
Well, that's what the old American lad I met at Maryhill Locks said before he headed on his way to good old downtown 'Mil-na-gayvee'. Me? I took a pish in the bushes and chucked my empty Coke can in the nolly.
Fuckin dump!
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