I am ill. I haven’t consulted a doctor, but after looking at this site, it looks like I almost certainly have bird flu. I also found a few feathers in my bed, although these may have come from a burst pillow as opposed to my rear.
I seem to get a cold avian flu during September/October every year. It’s annoying, and next year I will be planning on spending those contagious months inside a bubble.
My illness has also prevented me from attending both Nandos and the cinema this evening. I was annoyed but not nearly as pissed off as Mr. Watkins who was also forced to miss out due to my absence.
Finally, Leeds lost AGAIN this evening. Nothing really to say on the matter except, if the manager Kevin Blackwell is not sacked in the morning I may be making a trip up to Leeds to have a little chat with Blackie…
I’ll leave you with these lyrics from Coldplay. They sum up Mr. Blackwell perfectly.
When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse.
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
OK, here is that promised blog from Wednesday, albeit a day or two late…
Wednesday evening I went to the cinema and Nandos. Unlike the previous week, we went for our Peri Peri Chicken pre-cinema, therefore being able to enjoy it at an earlier time.
The nice waitress was there again and during the meal I had one eye on the chicken and another on her. There was another guy doing the same, but one of his eyes was glass, so he couldn’t really help but stare.
After chicken we went to watch Crank at the cinema. The film starred Jason Statham, from Lock, Stock. Statham seems to have been appearing in a lot of films over the last few years and is fast turning into the British Bruce Willis, although he’s a better actor of course, being British :o)
Without going into all the usual film review bollocks, Crank has a similar plot to Speed, but instead of a bomb on a speeding bus, a poison is injected into Statham’s body, causing death upon relaxation.
And that was Wednesday over. Of course, you all know about Healy Hobbit Feet’s great game against Spain.
Thursday. As I also mentioned the other day, I am looking for a new flatmate. Somebody came to look round in the evening. Oh my God, what a fucking freak. I don’t want to sound cruel, but there is absolutely no way I would want to share a flat with this guy…
He must have been about 40 (not his fault, everybody is ageing), but he dressed and talked like some comic book geek. He also stunk. You know when you pass a group of tramps in the street and notice an unpleasant odour in the air, well he smelt of tramp. He also wore a raincoat – it was a clear, sunny, Septembers evening. He was just weird… too weird. Not this time, not this fucking time, etc, etc, etc…
Friday. I nearly fall flat on my face at work. Wandering down a corridor I noticed that I was standing right above a massive spider. In a desperate panic to escape, I performed a kind of leap/sprint/dive out of the way. The idea that “spiders are more scared of you than you are of them” is just an old wives tale.
Watkins and Simon also came round for a few games of GoldenEye. Once again the playing conditions were very hot and humid. The neighbours and local psychiatric ward were also treated to an array of screams, yelps and shouts of abuse from the three of us.
Never mind all that drug and hyperactivity bollocks that Jason Statham had to perform in Crank to keep himself alive. All he would have had to of done is played a few rounds of GoldenEye with us. That would get the old adrenalin flowing very nicely.
It’s late. I’ll blog properly tomorrow. Just a quick one tonight to congratulate Northern Ireland for beating Spain 3-2. A fabulous win for them.
Special congratulations must however go to Leeds United’s very own David Healy for scoring all 3 goals against Spain, a national side made up of players who can normally be seen playing for the likes of Barcelona, Real Madrid, Arsenal and Liverpool.
No doubt Mr. Healy’s value will rise dramatically. Judging by what Chelsea paid for Shevchenko, I estimate Healy’s asking price to be in excess of £50,000,000.
I suppose you could say the result of tonight’s game was
LEEDS UNITED 3-2 SPAIN.
Or LEEDS UNITED 3-2 BARCELONA.
Or LEEDS UNITED 3-2 ARSENAL… you get the idea.
Well done David. You had better score at the weekend…
Sweet Caroline, Boom! Boom! Boom! Good times never felt so good…
Is the stomp dance some kind of Ulster tradition or is Healy just a fan of Hale and Pace
Fuckola. That’s this evening wasted.
I will now explain the reasons behind my rage.
I have been put in charge of finding a replacement for one of my flatmates who is moving out at the end of September. I have drawn the short straw if you will. It’s OK though, I will have a large input into who the chosen one shall be – hopefully a young, attractive, Leeds United supporting female who will drive me to Elland Road every weekend.
I registered the room on a website and have since received a lot of feedback, mostly from students. Can they not read? The advert clearly stated “Professionals only”. Those professionals who were interested were rounded down into acceptable flatmates. E.g. no old people (aged 35+), no chavs and certainly no individuals going by the name of O.B. Laden enquiring if there are any dark places to hide in the flat.
One possible flatmate was due to come this evening. Professional. Female. Early 20’s. After she bombarded my mailbox and left message on my answer phone, I thought she was at least slightly interested in the room, I therefore asked if she would like to look round this evening. She agreed.
I went out my way to get things ready for her. I tidied the flat (probably for the first time since moving in), ensured I had dinner early and rushed back home in time to show her around. She never turned up. At around 10pm I was called so say she had found somewhere else.
Fair enough if she found another flat, but it would have been nice to know earlier. Never mind, I still have her mobile telephone number. If I am feeling really, really mean I will use it in TradeIt, 1 week before Christmas, advertising a PlayStation 3 for only £100. Hahaha.
Of course, I am only joking. Or are I?
I was saddened today to learn of the death of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. Even though the news came as a shock, I wasn’t really surprised. Like someone who smokes 40 cigarettes a day, it was highly unlikely Mr. Irwin would reach his 70th birthday.
What a cruel twist of irony, that after wrestling man eating crocodiles, handing deadly snakes and being chased up trees by giant lizards, that it was a stingray, one of the most docile creatures he would have ever come into contact with that killed him.
At least he died doing what he loved. Better than snuffing it on a hospital trolley or getting mowed down by a truck.
I was a genuine fan of his and am not just writing this because a million other bloggers across the world will be doing the same thing. Some of Steve’s best moments I can remember include him getting chased around an island by Komodo Dragons and his exploration of a North American forest, infested with rattlesnakes and discovering, to his horror, that one was nested in between his legs.
Steve Irwin arguably increased the popularity of The Discovery Channel and Animal Planet. What will they do now that he is dead? I think they should find a new person to take on his dangerous job. How about Cristiano Ronaldo or better still, Sven, he’s out of work.
Finally, I wanted to show some of his work on my blog, but I couldn’t find any. I did however find this, no disrespect Steve! R.I.P.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
