Wednesday, July 20


I dislike bossy women, but I hate hen-pecked men more.
Adults who read Harry Potter have something seriously wrong with them.
I think I open my mouth too early when drinking coffee.
I can't find my beard trimmer today.
I can't decide how I feel about apple juice.
I have run out of money.
There's no wax in my hair today.
I've decided I'll buy flight socks next time I fly. Can they be worn with shorts?
I haven't sat on any chewing gum for five days now.
I hate being cc'd on emails by people I don't know.
I don't like children.
I don't like jewellry.
I had to leave a sports shop yesterday midway through trying on some trainers because my socks didn't match.
I've realised that guys who shag younger women look good on it.
The guy in my local WHS is odd. He looks very intense and has five different wanky wristbands. He's called Craig.
I have killed at least twenty moths since Monday night and am prepared to kill more.
Why is it that I have a greater fear of a strong homosexual man than I do of a strong heterosexual man?
I can't make up my mind whether I prefer Narnia or Oz. But I don't think it matters.
My mate says kemal from Big Brother 6 has in his words, a big bollocks.
The same friend is about to have his house repossessed.
I steer clear of money transfer shops that double up as mini cab offices.
My aunt still has a perm.
My uncle didn't remove his feet from the table when I was having a sandwich there yesterday.
I think he could do with a pumice stone.
Having a tug is just like sex, only you get more done with your day.
I read about a man who got bummed by a horse in Washington the other day and died from a perforated colon.
Could a slow kid defeat a chimp in a tear up?
On seeing my reflection in a shop window today I was reminded why I need to wear wax.
I really don't like pretentious people. They trouble me deeply.
I know alot of pretentious people.
Don't get me started on men in white linen trousers.
I left a bus stop after a girl saw me see her picking her nose. I did it for her sake. I got on a stop later, and she was on the bus picking her nose again. I got off at the next stop. For her sake. She was wearing so much jewellry that I'm surprised that she didn't need help lifting her hand up to her nose.
I can't spell jewellry.
I love water melons.
Too much water melon makes me pass water.
A great female arse makes me pass out.

Wednesday, July 13

What about the gum?

Okay, good work by the police on uncovering the identities of the bombers, but who's going to stop these bastards who put gum on train seats? I got caught out again today. Gum on the bag and on my right bum cheek. It was only April that I got hit big time, and now, looks like I have to lose another bag. I think I may be being targeted deliberately by the same gum assailant. Not sure why. Perhaps I slept with his mum during my phase of sleeping with older women.

And before someone suggests ice cubes, I don't have a freezer.

© Disappointed of West Egg 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.

Tuesday, July 12

We are not defiant

Earlier in the day I found myself to be the only person on the top deck on three of the four buses I went on. And we're talking lengthy journeys here. Big strapping men sat downstairs trying to pretend there was nothing wierd about that. The press have got it wrong when they trot out that cliche of how Londoners are defying the terrorists. No one is defying anyone. Everyone is worried. Understandably so. But let's quit kidding ourselves that we're defiant. We get on the buses and trains because normal life has to carry on.

© Disappointed of West Egg 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.

Pink Shrt in a Bomb Scare

Caught up in a bomb scare last night while wearing a pink shirt. Not good. Not good at all. I appeared to look cool and calm as I exited the station without panic, but the truth is my bag was bloody heavy.

Both the train and station were evacuated and maybe it was because the pink shirt set me apart, but people kept coming up to me and asking me what was going on. Not sure I gave them as much information as I should have. I was preoccupied with whether my wearing shades was justified. No one else seemed to be wearing them, and perching them on my head wasn't an option with a pink shirt on.

© Disappointed of West Egg 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.

Saturday, July 9

The Branch

Was it so bad that I once stayed with a girlfriend because on the way to her front door there was a tree branch that you had to duck under? I enjoyed approaching the branch at an angle, and then ducking at the last possible minute. I felt like I was skilfully avoiding being hit. I tried to make my approach look as noncholant as possible, but in reality, I was always a hundred per cent focused on the approach to the door whenever I went round there. I miss that. It made me feel good. I needed to feel good. She never made me feel good.

In the mornings I used to pop out and get her the paper, just so I could duck under the branch once more.

© Disappointed of West Egg 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.

Dangerous Times

We live in dangerous times. That's obvious. I wasn't shocked by the bombings the other day. I don't think anyone was. I was on a flight back from the fatherland when the captain broke the news as to what had happened in London.

Let's be honest. This was long over due. We can't and shouldn't be surprised, though of course it is worrying.

I do hope however that we do not come to refer to this terrible day as 7/7. I have so far refused to refer to the 11th of September attacks as 9/11 and I hope we don't go down that wanky Americanised road with Thursday's terrible events. We are not Americans.

© Disappointed of West Egg 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.