You know when you just can’t think of what to blog about? Well, as whoever is reading this blog most likely doesn’t write a blog themselves, I suppose not. Tonight is one of those times where my mind is blank. A bit like Wayne Rooney’s brain is all the time. In the past I would just go to bed and not bother blogging. However, this year is different. This year I have blogged every day and I don’t intend to stop that today as I can’t think of anything to put. Therefore, today’s blog is a bit of a cheat. Nothing of any relevance or meaning what so ever.  A bit like all my blogs for the last decade then.

OK, I’ll write about something. My day. Sunday. I woke up. Early. I must be getting old as lately (well, the last two days), I am finding that when I wake up at weekends I am unable to lie in anymore, so instead mess about on my phone for an hour, get up, have a long piss, before getting dressed, having a coffee, some breakfast, plonking my bum on the sofa and watching television. I watched the cup final today. Manchester City won. What a surprise that was. They played Sunderland. I wanted both teams to win. I like Sunderland’s manager, Gus Poyet. I also like the idea of Manchester City winning something, for the simple reason that it would annoy Manchester United fans.

What a fascinating blog this is turning out to be. Not. I spent the rest of my afternoon trying to get inspiration to tidy the house. I managed one thing. To dispose of the shoe box which has been sitting in the front room for about a month. I didn’t do much else. I was bored and spent the remainder of my weekend aimlessly refreshing my Twitter timeline. I then had tea. Hunters Chicken, parsnips, microwaved vegetables, some posh looking potatoes things, followed by Cadbury’s Crème Egg ice cream. I like to live my life in the fast lane.

Now I am going to bed. Be aware that there may, no, there will be many spelling and grammatical errors in today’s blog. I haven’t proof read it. That is because I couldn’t be bothered. Please forgive me. However, if you spot that I have confused “you’re” with “your” or “there”, “their” and “they’re”, you have my written permission to hunt me down and cut off my penis with a rusty breadknife. Goodnight.