I prefered the devil when he was red and blamed that guy

This cat is called Sissi, she is fat

I was just about to walk towards what is popularly labeled Manchester when I though I'd wangle onto the internet and vent about the lack of cornflakes in my flat and the amount of bowls that were unwashed today. Alas I have not had any cornflakes today. It's all about Weetabix anyway.

So Hello!

I've just been reading through the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy after the longest recorded book reading hiatus ever since records began. It's been about 6 years since I last picked it up. But anyway it's so I can transfer immediately to the 'tribute' by Eoin Colfer as soon as possible, so at the moment in between applying for everyfuckingjob I'm also reading about the famous Krikkit Wars. Amazing. But anyway for now I am sat in the usual space, assuming the position, and while I read what the internet has to offer and listen to various features Spotify can hand over.



The past weekend has involved spending what should be my rent of cheap alcohol, dragging lost Goolies around Manchester to buy more cheap alcohol and swearing at little AU children.

If there's anything the world can do without it is AU children. They flock in their waddles with their sports hoodies on and accents and occupy space that could easily be occupied by someone five times more objectively useful. They talk on their phones about what happened the previous night and how they ended up at the generic nightclub name here and saw a number of people who either abbreviate their name by shortening it and adding Y to the end. And they take their shorts and peroxide hair to the nearest group of clones of themselves and then proceed to stand in queues at supermarkets buying nothing but sainsbury's own vodka and cola.

Perhaps because I have as much motivation as fucked treadmill but I do not 'get' these people, and perhaps because I have some deep desire to be them is the reason I find the strength to hate them. Perhaps I wish I could walk around in shorts all of Winter and wear a badly produced hoodie with my witty team name printed on the back and consider myself cool.

Perhaps next time I walk around student areas I'll walk on my side of the pavement, and they can walk in front of a bus.

And don't even mention rich students.

Lots of Love

Dougal

XxxxxX

Ghost in a wishing well

Good evening

I've spent many days now watching the magpies and squirrels raid our bins from the park we back onto. Those little things to do, watch as the tiny creatures tag team the bags, a crowd of magpies and a straggle of squirrels sit on the wheelie bins rim as one jumps down into the arena and wrestle the bin bag into an inch of it's life. Apparently the current champion is a fox who waltzes down ever so ofter.

I'm starting a betting racket on it.

So yes tonight I have mainly drunk while watching The Usual Suspects. There is no pun meant there I can assure, I have never seen the film before and guessed the ending. To do this I used a particular philosophy I hold when it comes to mysteries and crime dramas. Every film can be reduced to Scooby Doo, in the most basic of sense. Let me be Frank.

Never mind. It is called Scooby Doo Logic

In Scooby Doo we are bombarded with numerous characters which are not the usual 5 or 6 if you want to include that little fuck Scrappy Doo. With these characters you know you already know who the culprit is, and besides it's no fun if the person responsibly is someone external and not introduced to or else a twist is pointless. You might as well have Simon Weston being responsible for everything, I'm not sure why but it's true. Motive should be found along the way, usually by Thelma because she's the least sexual attractive of her and Daphne and therefore most intelligent. Oh Daphne. Maybe Thelma's just a late bloomer. Where was I?


Yes! That was it, in Scooby Doo logic there is usually a mean character, like in most crime drama. It is usually never them, this is the ringer, someone who has been thrown to you to make you think it's them because of their attitude when in fact it's the friendly gardener who knew about some gold buried under the building site where he's been dressing up as a ghost to scare people away from. Bastard kids, but Daphne can be forgiven. It's not her fault.

So I conclude with a question; Daphne or Wilma?

Life is terrible. But jager is not.

Love Dougal

XxxxxX

To begin at the beginning

Hello

'I've moved', that's what you're thinking "you've moved because you thought you were too good for Myspace. Well you're wrong get back into the dark corner you are typing at and die, and never darken my towels again"

To that I will reply "okay".



So let me bring you up to speed as someone else would say, I'm living in Manchester with a flat I cannot afford, in a country where the job climate has drove off a cliff while drink driving and within the boundaries of my diminishing funds I have developed an addiction to gnocchi and kinder eggs. And how do I feel? Alright really, if not slightly cold. It's not all doom and gloom, I have a few things to keep me sane, namely a bottle of emergency Jagermeister and a small Norwegian for company. To get me out and about I have a lax routine of visiting my friend Wasim at the Job centre, wandering about parks in a strictly non-seedy way and attempting to sing.

I've been in this situation for a month and a half now, and expect to be like the hairy man who sits next to the cash point at tesco in a few days. Fat chance. I'd never be able to grow a beard like that. It's impressive, but it is known that most homeless people end up so because of beard maintenance. So I'll never be homeless because of my lack of being able to grow facial hair, obviously. But just to be safe I'm looking for any line of work in Manchester, except dirty street work posted by scam companies. I've even applied for customer service at a bingo hall.

Living the dream.Just so you don't got empty handed, here is a photo of a giraffe I painted for 1000000 giraffes.

Now be gone. I'm going to lie down and listen to dark side of the moon for the somethingth time.

I said good day sir!

XXXxxxXXX