Monday, September 6, 2010

Nice cereal

Make a meal out of crisps.

I shouted that at a group of wee kids during break-time the other day.

I wanted to give them some wrong information.

I wanted them to have the wrong idea about nutrition, for badness, like.

It didn't work. I should have said it in French.

Plus, they mightn't have understood crisps, as the North American equivalent English word is chips.

I wouldn't have felt right saying "Make a meal out of chips", because it's a sentiment I agree with.

I did amuse myself though, and reeled away laughing and smiling contentedly.

I held on to the chainlink fence and shouted it in a really high-pitched voice, when I did it.

That was pretty good!

In other news, Mystery-Fans, I ran another half-marathon.

It was pretty tough. I didn't train enough.

I'm a fucking amazing athlete though, 'cos it still went pretty well.

I enjoy doing them.

I got a medal. It wasn't as nice as the one I got in April, so I'm mildly upset, still.

I won't let it ruin my feeling of smug priggishness, though.

I start the day with Kellogg's "Just Right".

I hate that name, it makes me feel like a cunt (which I am, let's not forget!).

"-Aye, your cornflakes look nice, but I fucking eat "Just Right", so fuck you"

It was created in the 1980s for health-conscious, athletic Australians, who are the world's third-biggest cereal eaters, apparently.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Doing a shite

Hi Mystery-Fans,

I've been kind of busy the last wee while. I was writing a play about doing a shite, but it went all wrong.

There just isn't the market these days for plays about doing a shite.

Apparently in the seventies it was all go. Shite plays left, right and centre.

Nobody wants to know these days.

It's all Unicef, Lady Gaga and organic food.

Fuck off.

My play was brilliant.

It was a play about doing a shite.

I'll not give the story away, because some cunt will nab it, and I'll be left playless.

It was turned down by everyone.

There was a bit of comedy, pathos, drama and lots of excitement.

Some people said it was the least-explicitly-about-doing-a-shite-play about doing a shite that they'd ever seen.

I said, is that a bit like Inception? Could we do something there?

They said no.

I fled to Belgium in tears like Stephen Fry did in 1995.

I was OK when I got to the airport, I wasn't even upset any more.

But I went to Belgium anyway.

It's a nice country.

It's underrated.