We All Need Somebody To Come Home To

I cannot lie, things haven't been good for the old iLL Man. Oh, don't get me wrong, I have no real money worries (yet), winter's nearly over and I'm currently itching to get started on some gardening projects with Clairwil and the rest of the Glasgow Guerrilla Gardening crew, but there's something pulling me down.............

I'm of the belief that it's my job which, to quote a wise man, 'pays my way, but corrodes my soul'. Each morning I wake up with tiny, sharpened claws of dread digging into my gut, and each night I come home and watch the clock, willing time to stop. Weekends become symbolic of my desire to simply get the fuck out of my life and do something a little less boring instead.

To that end, I have decided that I shall travel to Ayr at the end of the month for an open day at what used to be a Butlins holiday camp. It's now a 'Haven Holiday Park', whatever that is. Apparently the job entails taking photos of stuff and then loading them up to be printed out. I think. All very vague. They're probably looking for a toilet cleaner or something, but I'd still take it in a flash. Anything to be away from that air conditioned hell-hole on North Street.

Funny I should mention Butlins, because it looks like the traditional British intern......er, I mean holiday camp is due for a revival. As the 'credit card crunchie' turns into a full on recession, people no longer seem willing to spend money on foreign holidays. Or something. Look, Ruth Maddox said it, so it must be true!! The thinking is that people will still go abroad, but the likes of Pontins, Butlins and Haven will be there to provide cheap local breaks for those who find that even an all inclusive on the Costa Del Sol is just a bit too much. It's just that these places have to up their game a bit to keep people who are used to endless sunshine, cheap booz and transvestite caberet acts coming back. The mind boggles, it truly does..............

Maybe they'll have Redcoat jobs for Lucy Pinder and Tommy Sheridan......

In other news, it seems Chris Martin, of tedious pomp rock bores Coldplay has been banned from the studio by none other than the God-like Brian Eno. Apparently it's to allow the rest of the band to work up unlistenable cack without the singer chipping in every five minutes. How I hope they extend the ban indefinitely. The album will still be shite, a turd polishing exercise if ever there was one, but at least nobody would have to listen to the smug, self satisfied little cum stain's pissy little voice. Knowing Eno, Martin's contribution will be limited to him farting down the phone line and having it looped at different speeds over each track. Hell, even I'd buy that!

One final request. Can someone ask Barack Obama to stop copping for stuff? It's not terribly becoming of a world premier to state that he 'screwed up'. How does he think Bush lasted eight years? Admit fuck all. It might seem cute and refreshing at first, but believe me, people will start to agree with him after a while and then he's shafted.

Gob Rot

It started late afternoon on Tuesday. One of the old pegs in the back row was starting to get a little agitated. Caused me no end of gip, so after sleeping on it, I decided that it was a case of 'better out that in' and off I trotted to the Dental Hospital. Ah, the Dental Hospital, that last hope of the impoverished and the jakey old sot, at least it was last time I visited. Back then, it was a case of turning up, taking a ticket and waiting yr turn, no questions asked, no fees demanded. This weather it's all appointments and the recommendation that one brings along at least thirty quid to cover their butchery, though it's nice to see that they still don't tend to ask too many questions. For yr money you get a cheery, affable chap who displays the x-ray of your crumbling molar on a little screen that swings round in front of you as you recline in the more than comfortable chair, before wrenching out the abscessed fucker with little or no fuss. Lovely.

Anyway, I've been feeling a little crappy over the past few days. The swelling from the extraction and the injections is only just starting to go down. I'd recommend that all you kids out there brush your teeth twice a day, but then that's what I did and see where it got me...........!!

So, three times a day it is. Oh, and stay away from booze, Coca Cola, crisps, chocolate, curry...........all the stuff that's good...............

Nah, give me a toothless grin and searing agony any day of the week.......................

I keep making promises to myself to enlist at a nearby NHS dental practice, but I have the feeling that even that would bankrupt me given the current state of my piggy bank. I should have acted long ago and got my mouth sorted, but given that the last lot of treatment was both extensive and expensive, part of you just thinks 'Fuck it!!' and leaves it at that................

Every Ruddy Year...............

...........at around this time, I get the same shit-miserable cold. Last year it was New Year in Amsterdam, this year it was Christmas at home...........Without fail it comes round and belts me one just when I want to be eating, drinking and being merry. Bugger!

It's also why I haven't been blogging. Every cloud has a silver lining I suppose.................

I'll be back to rage at cyclists soon. The fuckers!

Thieving Fuckers!

Bjork at Connect festival, Sunday Night

Well, it had to happen sometime............

I've had my wallet nicked. I was in Lidl, I'd just payed for my messages and was transfering a few things to my satchel at the counter behind the checkout. Rather than putting my wallet back in my jacket pocket, I've foolishly and left it out on the counter and gone without it. An uncharacteristic mistake, I have to state. I made the forlorn journey back after getting about five minutes up the road and realising I was a bit light in the pocket department. As I had surmised, nobody had handed it in, but someone had almost certainly nicked it. All that was in it was a few quid in loose change, a national insurance card, a bank card that the thief will never be able to use (especially now that it's been cancelled) and various other bits of useless shite.

Cheers mate. I know who you are. You were the trackie wearing dick who made me wait in the queue while you went for something you'd forgotten, you were the wee dobber who was transferring messages to your rucksack as I walked out of the shop and couldn't have helped but notice that fat looking brown leather pouch laying there unattended. You were the cagey looking fucker who suddenly started fumbling for gears on your bike as you came past me as I returned to the shop between five and ten minutes later in the mistaken belief that someone would have had the decency to hand it to one of the staff.

If it was indeed Shellsuit Bob who had away with my wallet, I truly hope he gets raped by his bird with a 12 inch steel dong, or maybe his pet doberman bites his balls off in the night. There are other possibilities, but the circumstantial evidence points one way, and at this moment in time, that's good enough for me...............Guilty!

Apart from that I'm fine. How's everyone else?

For Lism. The Hold Steady say Howdy!

Strange The Difference A Day Makes.........

So I strode out of the house tonight, The Iggy Pop mix of Raw Power lacerating my synapses through my cheap and nasty headphones and making me feel about twelve feet tall. You know, that "I'm Fucking Alive" feeling that you just don't get often enough in a lifetime.... It's funny, because I was on my way to Firhill to watch Partick Thistle, much against Doctors orders it has to be said. He said the Jags were "in for a pumping" as he took my blood pressure and advised I take up less stressful hobbies like lion taming or drug running.

Anyway, God only knows what the players had roaring through their heads pre-kickoff, but they arrived on the pitch as hyper, switched on and alert as I was and proceeded to play in a way I haven't seen this season. 2-0, going on five or six... Whatever it was, I hope the manager has a plentiful supply.

I've been a bit down for the past week it has to be said. Nothing big really, just niggly little things. Seeing my mother come back from a weekend break in Newcastle a day early due to yet another urine infection was a real fucker. I mean, is it too fucking much to ask that she gets away for a few days without coming down with this shit? That's two holidays out of three ruined by the same condition. Needless to say, she's absolutely armed to the teeth with anti-biotics for the next sojourn...... Wish her luck.

Talking of walking wounded, I'd also like to give a belated shout out to the Fat Sparrow, who's having a fucker of a time with illness too. Go and wish her well here. She hasn't updated since late Feb, so I'm hoping she's Ok and just laying low. Haste ye back missus.

Ok, that's it.

Go on, Beat it!