A bit weird

So it's about 2am and here I am pissed in my campervan in a field somewhere near Hamble. We have had a barbeque, and a load of beer, and now begun to crash out. I just thought I ought to blog before I did. There is no way in the world that you can tell me that there is anything more fun than having your own two bedroom house with wheels on it. Hooray for campervans, and boo to VW drivers.

Easy roads folks.

The new next best thing

Well, even I gotta admit that the current money spinner is the best idea I've had in a while. Unfortunately it is such a good one that due to the secrecy it is shrouded in, I cannot divulge much information on the blog. The most I will communicate is that it is a book, and and it's about Winchester. And it is not, despite it being a fantastic idea, a collective history of places in Winchester I have had sex. Although it might make better reading, it would not sell quite as well.

Peace out

Goddamned shaver.

I own a braun shaver. One of the really expensive ones that come with its own cleaning system. Well, haven't cleaned it since moving house, so, that means that I haven't charged it in the same time. I would be amongst the first to admit that it hasn't been getting a huge amount of action, shaving about once every.... Well, every time I fancy it, I guess, which isn't often. Anyway, finally got around to charging it this afternoon when I woke up, but couldn't get it to run the cleaning cycle. Before going to bed, I thought I would just have a look at it, as it is sat on my dressing table type affair. This time, it decided to work. Now the downside is that it is about half past midnight, and the cleaning cycle lasts about an hour, and involves it starting up, more or less at random for the entire duration. So I have to look forward to keep crapping myself at random intervals for the next hour. So much for a relaxed early night.

Peace out, cos J to the Cizzle is in the flibbedy flobbedy floooooo!

Another most excellent plan

well, even by my usual standards, this is a weird one. Yesterday went looking for a caravan to possibly replace my campervan. Having looked at a few, came to the conclusion that if I got a caravan, my vectra might have a few problems towing it. Well, the next logical step is to get something that could tow it. Unfortunately there was nothing of note in the newspaper, except for a Ford Escort Xr3i cabriolet. Me and Loz chatted it over and declared that it couldn't hurt to go and have a look at it. Off we drives, and lo and behold, the chap has this beautiful black convertible ready for us to look at. So, while we are having a dekko, I spot a Range Rover. I ask the guy if it's for sale, and he tells me no, but he does have a 4x4 Vauxhall Frontera. Having gone for a test drive in the Escort, I check out the Frontera. Both me and Loz were impressed and then went for a test drive in that. Loz had to shoot off to work, so I went to pick up mother, and, long story short, we went and bought both of them. I now have four vehicles registered to me. Not sure why though. Both the new ones are soft tops, so a miserable rainy summer is now on the cards.

After all this, we still had to sort out Martha, the Campervan. Having emptied all the shit out of the back of it, the bloke turned up with the flatbed to collect her. He had some difficulties getting into the drive, but managed eventually. He then tied Martha to a winch, and heaved her up onto the back. It was the single most terrifying experiences of my life. Well, this week anyway. So, off she goes to have the engine fixed, and when she is back running, off she goes to a place in Colden Common to have the interior sorted out. Then it's the high road that beckons.

Peace out dudes.

Bloody donkeys

Well, seemed like a good idea to get a few quid down for the Grand National. Now for those who don't know, I have had a pretty damn good run with the National over the last five years. Certainly into four figure profiit. This year, unfortunately, I had no money to gamble away. After spending about three hours on the fone with mother, I finally talked into letting me place a fairy substantial amount of her money on the race. Out of the top four, I had...not a one! Not one fucking horse was placed, out of the seven horses I bet on, not one of them thought that it would be a good idea to cross the line in the same decade that they set off. Bastards.

On a lighter note, I gave Jon a couple of tips, that I didn't have money on, as he is a jinx when it comes to horses. He was very drunk, having been drinking whisky with me until about 8ish that morning, before getting about an hours sleep, before heading off to his sister's wedding. Yestein the pub he mentions that he had money on Hedgehunter, one of my tips, who had actually been placed, but Jon had been too pissed to realise that fourth is placed on the National, assumed he'd lost, and tore up his betting slip, therefore losing him....(sounds of frantic mental arithmetic) £22.50 which is, I concur, not a huge amount of money, but it is definitely better than, for example, having a vigorous body rub off a hairy man with a cheesegrater.

Seemed like a good idea

So having seen some camping bits and pieces in the Argos catalogue, I decided to put up my tent in the back garden to see how easy it is, and how long it could be erected in. Well, half an hour later, and sweating like Lee Evans, I finally got the thing vaguely upright. Considering that our lawn appears to be concrete with an inch of soil on top, I am surprised it is as up as it is. So, having achieved this mighty feat of construction, I retired to the living room to watch more shite on telly. Giving up for the night, I have made it to the kitchen, where I remember about the secondary living accommodation in the rear aspect of the property. All of a sudden it seems like the best idea I have ever had in my life involves getting a blanket and a candle and proceeding to sit in the near dark listening to the distant sounds of the motorway and the next door neighbour's cat trying to scrabble over the fence. Nice: 10\10 for excellent thinking. I haven't done this since I was about 12, so about 14 years ago.
Have since given up, and I am back inside. Mainly because the batteries died in my phone. Living rough is fine, just as long as you can get your hands on all available technology.

Been a long time

Being unemployed once more, and in fact, unemployable due to a broken wrist sustained whilst under the influence of red wine and whiskey, I have decided to post to this blog a little more often.

Well, it has been a weird month, what with the breaking of the hand and not being able to drive as a result. Went out Easter Sunday with Barney and his dog, Bo. Bo is without a doubt the most mental mutt alive, and has this vile habit of eating anything that looks utterly repugnant: shit, corpses, entrails. You name it, if you can find it in a Turkish restaurant, then Bo will eat it. We took her out for about a twenty mile walk, through the grounds of a local manor house, met a racehorse, and some exceedingly evil cows. Cows look kinda docile and amicable when seen from out of a car window, but when they are up close, you are simply reminded that cows are fucking great animals with not a lot going on in between their ears. A bit like bouncers really.

Went to Frensham Pond on Monday. Unfortunately it was not quite as exciting as last time I went there, for example this time there were not quite as many snobby teenage girls in bikinis wanting my cock. So didn't hang about, came home and watched shite on telly.

Went out on Tuesday for a quick drink with Carl, bought eight cans of lager from Waitrose, then went back to the pub with Barney. Watched Man U stuff Romford 7-1 then went home. Sat drinking and getting immensely stoned until the early hours of the morning, and I mean exceedingly stoned. To the extreme.

Well that about makes my life seem about 400% more exciting than it really is, which is kinda sad because that's not even interesting in the slightest Still, passes the time.