Wake Me Up When It's Time To Go Home - Dark Scooby Doo Ending For Rob

I had been walking along the verge of the high coastal road for about an hour when I saw in the distance a man standing in the middle of the road. As I got closer I realised that he was in some distress. He was clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly, walking back and forth across the narrow road and generally looking like he'd had better days. As I got to within about twenty metres of him I realised all was not right with his particular world. There was to my right what at one stage had been a rather flashy looking convertible car lying upside down in the gorse. A blood soaked arm lay flopped out from the wreckage at an impossible angle. The car looked like it had rolled a fair few times going by the hundred or so yards of flattened shrubbery going back to a set of skid marks on the road ahead. This was where my eyes met with what looked like some sort of oversized roadkill. The man pacing about on the road was, at a guess, in his mid twenties. He seemed not to notice me as I came to the scene. I looked at him and asked if he needed any help. He stopped and looked in my general direction but not at me. He went back to pacing. He was talking to himself but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I shouted this time. 'Hello, what's happened? Are you alright?' Again he looked up and towards me, but no eye contact, just a look of fear and bewilderment. I'm no lip reader, but i'm sure he mouthed the words 'Help Me, They're Dead'. I wandered past the man, towards the body on the road. It was female, as far as I could tell and yes, very very dead. Just as one ought to be after being smashed to bits by a speeding car. The whole scene was becoming too surreal for me and I simply wandered off. I kept looking back. The man, the car and the body remained until the road curved right and out of sight of the strange scene I had just witnessed. I put it down to the hallucinagenic properties of the sea air and too much ecitement for one day and put my head down to make the next town by dusk. The hope that the land ladies of my next port of call couldn't be any less pleasant than those of the place I had just left kept my spirits up and my mind and body from calling it a day there and then in the alluringly soft and tranquil moorland.

Some Things I Found

Hello. Just a brief post tonight. I'm rather tired and a bit frazzled from a weekend of glorious sunshine, extensive drinking and too much televised football. First of all, if anyone has any idea how to set up a music player in myspace I will be forever in your debt. The last statement covers a fairly broad remit but falls short of sexual favours............... Next, I would like to introduce you all to some new things I found on the internets. TV Cream - Arcane Tv listings The Rockall Times - The Heather Mills piece is especially amusing The Random Surrealist Insult/Compliment Generator - Exactly what it says on the tin. Learning How To Throw Yourself At The Ground And Miss - A wonderful, wonderful blog. One of my favourites. Theres some new stuff in my link list too. Cheers.

Warning! Some World Cup Content

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Fuck Off Blogger

Really very pissed off right now. Is it just me or is there never a night goes by when there isnt something fucking well wrong with this thing? The most common complaint is that Blogger won't upload my photo's. Another pet hate is when you have to reload the posting page as the full version with all those handy little icons has obviously decided not to make an appearance and sends it's rather ugly and unhelpfull sibbling to do the job for you. Tonight has been a nightmare. Slow loading for all blogger sites and an absolute bastard when it comes to making a post. I can't believe i'm getting angry at a website....... Anyway, due to 'tecnical difficulties' there are no pictures tonight. To be honest i've not a lot to say either.................but then, you all knew that anyway.

Wake Me Up When It's Time To Go Home pt 7

The sound of the cell door awoke me from my shallow slumber with a start. I stared incomprehensibly at the large figure in the doorway, trying to regain my bearings and remember where I was and what I was doing there. "Ok pal, yer free to go" said the figure in the doorway. He had come some way into the cell and I could now identify him as the police officer who had manhandled me into the police station. I could prove nothing, but I felt sure it was he who had administered the blow to the side of my head too. "I couldn't have a cup of tea could I?" I rasped, my tongue still stuck to the roof of my mouth. "That will be bloody right son, you think this is the fuckin' Hilton or somethin'?" He looked at me like I was vermin. I suppose I was in a way. I had certainly looked better in my time, though not much. "I only asked..........." "Lucky not to be up in front of the magistrate mate" he continued warming to his theme somewhat. "I had you in here on an act of public indecency. Playin' with yerself on a park bench........" "I was asleep, I had no idea....." I butted in, not liking where this was going. "Yeah, heard it", he snapped. "Thing is, I don't make the decisions around here. You can go now." He looked wistfully at the light fitting, a little smile coming to his lips for a moment, probably imagining for a few seconds a world in which the cracking of strangers over the head with his truncheon was the kind of thing that got you promoted. "You said I could go?" I ventured. The officer snapped out of his little bloodsoaked reverie and directed me to the door and down the hallway to the desk sergeant to collect my belongings. An hour later I was sitting on the prom with a bag of chips. They tasted slightly strange, the vinegar wasn't right. I put it down to the bump on the head scrambling my taste buds and breathing the musty air of the jail cell for three hours couldn't have helped either. The town looked altogether more welcoming in the mid afternoon, with it's citizens and tourists milling about in the streets and on the beach. A holiday postcard scene if ever there was one. What a pity it had taken me six long, traumatic, lonely hours hours to find it. Scrunching the chip bag up I got to my feet and wandered towards the nearest bin. Several scabby looking local strays demonstrated more than just a passing interest in the chip wrapper as I went to dispose of it. "I wouldn't bother if I were you chaps" I said as I dropped it in the bin "I think someone pissed in the vinegar bottle in the chippy, tasted bloody awful" Understandably they ignored me and continued to paw and slavver at the bin entrance in the vain hope of getting at the greasy piece of newspaper. I considered my situation for a few moments as I walked along the seafront. I had heard the next stop along the coast was nice. I would leave that night. The world seemed still to regard me as easy prey here. This place and it's people didn't seem to want me and I decided that I had to leave before I got too familiar with any more of it's denizens.

Well Hello..........

A bit of a weekend all told. Went to Stirling on saturday with Clairwil, the account of which can be read here. Along the way I picked up a bit of a slow burning hangover. Still feeling a bit crap so i'll make tonights post short and sweet. I got an invitation from the very nice people at The Aftertime to possibly contribute something to their magazine. Not sure what it'll be yet. I have until the 25th of this month to decide. Oh goody, a mission........... Anyway, I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully with the last episode of Wake Me Up....... Yes, I know i'm all promises...............

World Cup Hell

Been watching ITV's stab at World Cup build up over the past week or so(ITV 11-12pm weekday nights). It's called World Cup Heaven And Hell. A fine title as watching it is as close as you get to simultaneous misery and joy as i've experienced in a tv show. I'm a glutton for old World Cup footage to be honest but the 'talking head' element of the programme left me cold. Very Cold. Top prize goes to the guy with the comedy coker knee accent(Miff something-or-other) He has to be the biggest arsehole I have never met. What a goon. You absolute fucking travesty. You complete cunt. You London media whore 'just discovered football half an hour ago and went to see West Ham once' prickbag. I hope you die quite soon. The rest were the usual array of failed comedians(Ricky Fucking Grover, Jesus!!!) and poor quality hacks using funny voices, heavy handed sarcasm and scripted wisecracks to make late bids for media icon status and half hearted attempts at resurrecting their flagging careers as 'amusement engineers' . The sad fucking bastards. A comedy Kraut was even flown in to accentuate the Germanophobia(is that a fucking word or what?) of which there was copious amounts. Fuck me!! Us sweaty socks are being told by the racial equality people not to use the World Cup as an excuse to exercise anti English sentiments and then you watch shite like that...........................I ask you? 'Oh, but it's all in fun' they say, 'we don't really mean it' Neither do we............................not much.... Wouldn't mind if the gags were funny but they weren't. After every painfully laboured joke I half expected the 'boom-tish' sound of the bored house band drummer to underline each meagre excuse for a punchline. It was so bad that the funniest line of tonight's show fell to rubbish Scottish comic Andy Cameron with a gag about a shop in Dundee selling copies of his 1978 World Cup record after the finals for 1p with a free hammer to smash the thing. In an ideal world, the airing of this show should see to it that very few of these pricks will ever work in the media again. Instead I fear we may be in for another series of 'Orrible' and the proliferation of mouthy barrow boy wannabees in the sports pages of our daily papers. There were a few exceptions. Bob Mills, despite his heavy handed sarcasm chipped in with something approaching genuine insight from time to time. Paul Tonkinson likewise. The star of the show was the chap with the giant quiff and the blazer. Cohen I think his name was. Made a few spurious deductions throughout, but at least seemed to be on talking terms with rational thought. Small mercies and all that. That leaves the real star of the show, the footage............ The amazing goals, the abysmal tackles, the cheats, the scandals, the pictures of Ally McLeod having a nervous breakdown....................... Who needs the 'wry and comedic insights' when you have the bare and sometimes rather lunatic facts to speak for themselves.