Fucking shitehawk whorebeast ratfuck cumstains. It’s the fucking festive fucking season, and I don’t appear to have any friends. Aside from the basic embarrassment of inviting a load of people around for festive fun, and have all of three people turn up, tonight I get home from work, and think “I know, I’ll phone around and see if anyone fancies seeing LOTR or a pint ot two.” So I go through my phone book, to a litany of “Out of town. Busy. Out of Town. Not answering phone.” and so on.
In the end, I give my brother a call. Not, I hasten to add, as a last choice, but he saw the film the other week, and I didn’t reckon he’d want to see it again. I figure he might at least fancy a few beers, or something,
He’s out. Seeing LOTR. With one of my friends, who’d I’d tried to call and got voicemail. Neither one of them thought to phone me. Fuckers.
So if anyone I know in London is reading this, and fancies a drink, or a trip to see LOTR, give me a ring. Or drop me an email in the next hour or so.
Otherwise, I’m going to eat things that are bad for me, drink a bottle of wine, and watch videos, while having a huff with the world.