I woke up this morning with a feeling of dread and a damp spot on my bed, 'damn that hot water bottle' I thought as I tried to see how bad the patch was, what a mystery, I was soaked through and I don't have a hot water bottle.
Looking through the window it was as if the sun was too afraid to show itself today, the sky was a dark ,foreboding swirling mass of anger. I fancied that I saw three of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse though they may have been plastic bags blown about by the wind.
My bedside clock said 7:10 am, what? 7:10 am, my arse its still dark out what happened to daylight savings time? then I remembered the awful truth, its the 2nd of November the day of disaster, my mind raced back to when I checked that I had £42.00 to send to Ms Ibis for spiritual protection and then I remembered buying a case of Charger (a weak but reasonably priced lager) it was a bit of a blur after that,I went to the pub then to the chinkys for a curried chip, Billy was with me so anything I had left over he probably took when I passed out, funny wee man is Billy one ear. Oh shit I'm in such trouble, will saint Michael and his mates stand by as the great evil that has been foretold fucks me in the ass sans lube? is it too late to pray? is it too early to drink? wise up its never too early to drink.
I will be keeping to myself today and wearing tinfoil under me hat just incase, if this is the last post that I ever do I just want you all to know that I meant every mean word I said to yous and if nothing happens to me you'll be in for more of the same, and you'll like it, you'll even ask for more but Old Knudsen won't give you more cos hes a fucking slag.
Standing, gazing over Loch Voil pondering the mortality of man.
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