My downstairs neighbour is pushing hard for the World Git of the Year Award. A couple of school kids sat on his wall yesterday to smoke a fag and have a chat. His nibs is out the next morning covering the wall with anti-climb paint. Miserable bastard.





Got puked over again in the bus by mini me. A bit better than a couple of weeks ago when some of it went over a passenger’s head. Staggered off the No. 55 into the brightness of another day smelling like a wino.


Mental health is a funny place to work. Patients staying in the medium secure forensic unit which houses offenders not suitable for prison because of mental health problems are putting on a short production of Macbeth.

A nice light play full of blood, mayhem, murder and madness. Should be interesting.


A conveniently located undertaker’s has set up shop opposite an old people’s home. It must be really heartening to pull the curtains back each morning and see Harry Hurry’s funeral parlor waiting patiently for your custom.


“I’ll always discover something new about myself. No matter how long you stand there examining yourself naked before a mirror, you’ll never see what is reflected inside.”


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