How disappointing...

Okay, so I read about some commandos who were going to row across the Atlantic Ocean to raise money for charity. Eagerly, cock in hand, I followed the link from the BBC website and found this: http://www.commando-joe.co.uk/Atlantic/index.htm

I mean, WTF?! I went from ROCK HARD to wiltingly flaccid faster than you could say 'fat ugly cunts'...

Anyway, I'm back with a vengeance.

I've returned. Again...

Like a phoenix, I have risen from the ashes...

It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I KNOW I promised to update more often, but really, you shouldn't be so gullible.

YOUR POO IS INTOXICATING!

Says Dr Gillian McKeith. Hungry bitch. She can poke around in someone's shit and call it being a 'nutritionist'. I do it, and get labelled a 'filth pig'. Where is the justice?

I think I am addicted to sex. Of all the addictions t have, I reckon that's a pretty good one. It could have been worse...drink, drugs, loose (wo)men etc...

It seems Spring is upon us. The problem with the sun shining outside, is that it is less conducive to work inside. Today, I seriously considered having a pint (Kronenberg Blanc) at lunchtime. I discovered Kronenberg Blanc on Sunday. It is one of the best things ever. What is not so good , is the price. At £4.10/pint, I won't be knocking back pints of the stuff in a hurry.

On Saturday, I met up with Mark (I'm holding my hands 12 " apart) K, in London. I'd not seen him since February 2006. We drank and ate and drank some more then ended up at Ghetto where once again, I bumped into Cambridge friends.

Currently listening to Bohemian Like You by The Dandy Warhols. Good song. Clever lyrics.

I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in 6 weeks. I am in pain today. It is good pain though. Not like the time I slipped whilst getting out of the bath and fell on an upright courgette. I never did figure out how that courgette found its way into the bathroom. Must have been one of my housemates playing a trick on me. Or something.

ANYWAY, I want to go on holiday. I'm thinking Spain or France. I've not been to Spain but I have friends in Paris who keep telling me to visit them. I mean, I'm sure they mean it and don't just say that to everyone. Right? Right!

Wisdom...

New year, new post...

First post of 2007 but definitely not the last. My 1 resolution for 2007 is to continue to amuse and delight my loyal readership. And I know you are legion. Literally 8 of you.

I will begin with a list:

My year in cities (February 2006 (when I last did a cities list)-January 2007):

-Toronto
-Prague
-Geneva
-Cologne
-Munich
-Toronto

I clearly need to travel more.

People I've met who have ROCKED MY WORLD:

-The man in the mirror.

Did you see what I did there? I'm the man in the mirror. I ROCK MY FUCKING WORLD, MAN.

Anyway, I know I promised to post more regularly and I have failed, but failed, to do so. So I offer humble apologies. My lack of posts wasn't my fault though. I was felled by the shits at the beginning of December. I blame 1 of 2 things. Maybe both. (1) I MAY have consumed feces (but not the human variety) with traces of puss. Alternatively, (2) I may have eaten a bad egg. The shell was cracked, the membrane was intact. How was I to know it was bad? After night sweats, soaking sheets, fever, headache etc...I took myself off to my doctor. It was a locum. A freakin' locum. She of the 'it'll get better by itself variety'. I asked for, nay, DEMANDED drugs but the bitch wouldn't prescribe anything. Apparently, it was either something viral or bacterial and the treatment is the same. Plenty of clear fluids and BRAT (bananas, rice, apple sauce, toast). Not a curry, which is what I had. I was up half the night pebble-dashing the toilet. I still have nightmares. And stains in my pants.

I don't really have stains in my pants. I am far too clean for that. FAR TOO CLEAN.

Speaking of stained pants...the worst thing in the world is when you go through the trouble of stealing someone's pants and you get them home only to discover a skid mark.

I know you're all dying to know what I did for Christmas, so I shall tell you. I went to Canadia for 16 days. It was pleasant. No snow, mild temperatures, cheap stuff. I was afraid I'd have to shovel mountains of snow as I usually have to do when I'm there. The only downside was the journey there and back. As god as my witness, I will never travel on Air India again. The only good things about the flight were that it was cheap (£245 return) and it departs from Birmingham International Airport (more convenient to get to than Heathrow). On the minus side: the flight to Toronto was 4 hours late departing. The flight to Birmingham was 2 hours late arriving, the food was inedible, the plane stank at the beginning of the flight but was unbearable (I almost fainted) by the end of the flight. I had to literally run off the plane and take in deep lungfuls of fresh air. The in-flight entertainment system only had 2 channels, the bint stewardess wouldn't let me use the toilets closest to my seat because they were reserved for Executive Class passengers (all 2 of them). Fortunately, I remembered that I am essentially an Englishman and chosen by God tocivilizee the heathen masses so I came over all imperious and used the Executive toilets anyway. I got dirty looks from the stewardess the rest of the flight though. Incidentally, 'stewardesses' is the longest word you can type with your left hand if touch-typing. I am the font of all knowledge. Being essentially an Englishman. There were several attractive people on the flight though, but I wasn't seated anywhere near them. Instead, I had some oaf on one side of me who insisted on using his Blackberry during the flight and kept trying to speak to me (I hid it when he went to the loo. He was frantic) and on the way there, I had some freak who kept asking for weird shit like herbal tea and soya milk for his coffee. He tried to speak to me to but I quelled him with a glance.

At the gym yesterday (my first time in over a month. I ACHE), I had erection after erection. Wednesday at 6pm is evidentally the time the HOT people go. I almost fell off the treadmill, so mesmerised was I by the perfectly formed, lycra-clad ass of the guy running in front of me. Somehow, he ended up near me at each piece of equipment. First it was the treadmill, then the cross trainer, them the mat, then the erg and then the sauna. Coincidence after coincidence. I think he may have been checking me out.

Self-harm

Goodness, my liver hurts.

Drank vast quantities of Calimocho on Friday at a party in my road. Calimocho, for those of you who don't know, is a Spanish drink. A Spanish peasant drink. Well, not only peasants, but young pissheads too. Anyway, it is a mixture of red wine and Coke. Sounds revolting but tastes like Sangria. Only better.

Anyway, went to this party with BSP (BIG STRAIGHT PHIL) and drank and chatted and perved. There were several attractive people there. I met a guy who apparently has a beautiful schlong. His face gave no indication as to the beauty within his pants though. He was repellant. No, that's not true. He just isn't as attractive as my friend he was courting. But doing a terrible job of it. Breeders should leave the courting to benders. We're wwwaaayyy better at it.

Woke up with the worst hangover ever. Fucking Spaniards. Went into town to help BSP choose spectacles (whenever he tried on a ridiculous pair, I squeezed his testicles). Spectacles...testicles...it almost rhymes...it does if you say it in a gay way.

On Saturday evening, Tom, Natasha, Aaron, Jenny and Jack came around for supper. I am slightly in love with Jack. By that, I mean that I want to have sex with him. He is a rugby player and I can think of nothing better than waking up beneath him. Well, I can think of several things better than that but they are too obscene to be posted here. I am willing to demonstrate so get in touch if you are even the least bit curious. And attractive. Do it now. But send a photo too.

Jack stayed after the others left and I casually brought up the subject of pornography (I'm getting quite adept at that)...short story, long...we ended up watching a film called 'Mrs Steele, My First Sex Teacher', in which some silicone-titted slut rolls her eyes as she talks dirty and refers to her pussy in the third person before taking a load in her mouth. It was well hot.

On Sunday, I went to the Remembrance Sunday service in Magdalen Chapel. Just like a normal service but it started at 10:55 instead of 11:00 and we sang 'God Save the Queen' at the end. I think we should sing GSQ every week. Or at least monthly. Nothing wrong with a bit of patriotism. Ask Nick Griffin.
After Chapel, I went to brunch where B and I were cornered by Lord Hurd (as in Douglas Hurd, the former Foreign Secretary). Lord H gave the sermon and it was exceedingly poor. The only excitement during the service was provided by Jesus in the form of:

-My phone going off during the service. I turned around an glared at the woman behind me so everyone would think it was her. If it works for flatulence why not mobile telephones?
-An incredibly hot boy (whose name I now know thanks to facebook)
-A woman dressed like a Nazi dominatrix/Nun (fish-net tights, short skirt, black leather jacket, poppy and a fuck-off-huge jewelled crucifix around her cum-soaked throat. I made up the bit about her throat being cum-soaked. But it probably was. Filthy whore).

After chapel, I had fencing which was tiring but good. I laid waste to some bitch who wasn't gracious enough to accept my apology (for telling her to shut up a couple of weeks ago).

The way to a woman's heart/anus:

One must rub the head of one's penis against the labia majora, followed by the perineum and finally, the anus. Plenty of lubricant is, of course, mandatory. With regard to men, skip the labia majora bit and the lube bit. It's not really necessary.

Just kidding. Use oil-based lubricants. Latex condoms work especially well with them...

Have you missed me?

Lordy, lordy...it has been a long time. I bet you, my loyal readers, have been distraught at my absence. Perhaps thinking that I was grievously ill or even dead. But no. Neither of those, you stupid fucks. I just couldn't be bothered. But now I can. You'd better put on your seatbelts; It's going to be a bumpy ride...

I bought myself a tiny, shiny (well, not shiny as it's brushed aluminum) iPod Shuffle. Perfect for the gym and for those long, sweaty runs I go on. The ones without the aid of laxatives. Did you see what I did there? Long runs, the shits...? Clever, eh? That's Cambridge for you...

Anyway, the temp in my office has just fallen off the turnip truck. Not only is he as thick as shit but he butts into every conversation with some inane, stupid comment. I'm going to get him sacked. Apparently, his knob is pierced too. What a cock. AND he walks like he's just been fucked up the ass. Which isn't inconceivable as he's a filthy homosexual.

Has anyone, you, perhaps, stolen someone's pants and used them for masturbatory purposes? Is it wrong to do this? Suppose the person in question (the victim of the theft, infact) is really HOT and really sweet (and suppose, hypothetically, that the pants had been worn earlier in the day whilst the person was doing some hard-core gym training and they were damp from the sweat. Hypothetically, I mean)? Does that justify the theft? I think it does.

I've met a load of really lovely people since Term began. Lets see...the French (2 HOT girls and a HOTTER guy), the bender American musicologist, the dyke American classicist (really very dyke), the bender Australian politician (HOT), the breeder South African who I thought had AIDS but turned out to just speak really ambiguously, the American bender politician, the HOT breeder medic with the gap in his teeth, the breeder ex-Yale person who uses my gym (and sweats like a pig), the breeder philosopher from All Souls, the undergraduate who is wavering between breeder and bender... etc...all lovely, lovely people...

I had a very informative conversation about anal penetration with some gayboys yesterday. Yes...very informative indeed. Not so much from their point of view but I learnt a lot about the kinky shit they get up to. They are clearly going to burn in hell.

I dined at High Table at Mansfield College last week. It was much better than I thought it was going to be. I mean, the College is so poor they don't have a pot to piss in, but they do themselves well when it comes to food and booze.

Oh, and I've taken up fencing. Really hard on the legs but the Kevlar kit is sexy.

Things I want to do soon:

Have a go on the helter-skelter in the Turbine Hall of the Tate Modern
See the Hockney exhibit
Have colonic irrigation (no still haven't done it)
Get new spectacles (I don't need new ones, I want new ones)
Go to Paris
Go to Barcelona/Madrid
Go to Iceland (the country not the shop)
Lick a perineum

There's a good chance I could fit those in between now and Christmas, no? Any takers?

Lists...

Go see Warrior King. Brilliant film.

Things that have been getting my goat lately:

-The weather
-The German
-The cock in my office who wears shiny polyester suits
-The whole 'taxes and charges' thing that adds about 30% to the price of an airline ticket
-The rudeness of not RSVPing to invitations
-The people against profiling by airlines. I'd like to be able to take a book and iPod on board
-The people who should remain silent and be thought fools but who speak and remove all doubt
-The people who describe themselves as having a 'rugby build' when they are, infact, just plain fat
-The people who say they are into bondage and sado masochism but really aren't
-The fucking bitch at the cinema yesterday who talked through the film. Very satisfying watching her get splashed by a car
-The misguided cu nts known as 'animal rights activists'
-The absence from Oxford of Big Straight Phil and Tom the Gay
-The self-important bint in the office who doesn't realise her job can be done by a monkey and is going to be automated when she retires next month
-The people who refer to single entities in the plural- "the University are hoping to..." or "Nat West have raised bank charges..." instead of the correct- "the University IS hoping to..." and "Nat West HAS raised bank charges..."
-The people who go on and on about the size of their stipend but never buy a round of drinks or bring wine/anything when invited to supper
-The people who get offended when you point this out to them

The ultimate iPod playlist:

-Tidal Wave by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
-Kelly Watch The Stars by Air
-If 6 Was 9 by Axiom
-Supergirl by Reamon
-Remember by Air
-Lay Lady Lay by Magnum
-The Drugs Don't Work by The Verve
-Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley
-Destiny by Zero 7
-Push the Button by Sugababes
-What Gives With You by Abraham
-Walk on By by Dionne Warwick
-Here's Where The Story Ends by The Sundays
-Mysteries by Beth Gibbons
-Lost and Found by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
-Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez
-Ooh La La by Goldfrapp
-I Did It My Way by Frank Sinatra
-Making Plans For Nigel by Nouvelle Vague
-Tear Drop my Massive Attack
-Mrs Robinson by Weezer
-Killin' Time by Matt Lewis Band
-So Here We Are by Bloc Party
-As Time Goes By by Billie Holiday
-Dream Is Over by Milli Vanilli
-Winning A Battle, Losing a War by Kings of Convenience
-Toy Soldier by Martika
-Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin
-Wrecking Ball by Viva Voce
-Dramamine by Modest Mouse
-Dream A Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass
-Bloody Motherfucking Asshole by Martha Wainwright
-Glory Box by Portishead
-Yes Sir, I Can Boogie by Goldfrapp
-Don't Stop Me Now by McFly
-Brand New Car by Feeder
-Bermuda Highway by My Morning Jacket
-Cocktails For Two by Spike Jones
-Under The Tree by The Water Babies
-Seether by Veruca Salt