What a Cnut.

I'm finding it difficult to think of anything to actually write about. My desk is not a good place to be when the creative juices are refusing to flow... The eyes of Hunter S Thompson look down from a picture on the wall behind my monitor and challenge me to "Finish the Fucking Story!" But what is the fucking story? Huh, hunter? Is it the tale of someone sitting staring at a monitor for an hour and producing nothing more than three bad starts and a half page of gibberish filled with cod psychology and lunatic ramblings? If so I think I have the story. I have it firmly by the balls if that's the case... But the words, Hunter, the words... How do I describe the anguish caused by trying to create something which cannot be created. Do I risk an in-depth description of my surroundings in an attempt to somehow define the reality I face when I am sitting in what I have reserved as my creative space? I seriously hope not... I'd have a hard job explaining away the inflat...

And giving it a damn good shake. I've finally switched over to the new version of blogger so for the next couple of weeks there may be slight glitches in this page as I try to figure the bugger out.

I've always wondered just how people would define me if someone asked them to describe me. I know my friends and family have made the following comments... A Lunatic. (Sandra.) Insane. (Boo.) Slightly Mad, but in a good way. (Jenny.) You can't describe Ross. (Steff.) Sick. (Oswald.) A Bam. (Terry.) A fat cunt. (Bobo.) Silly. (Alex, Cameron, Daisy, Lawry.) 'Illy. (Matthew.) A twat. (Stuart.) Off his head. (Sarah.) Eccentric. (Laura.) God, that list could really spiral out of control... Anyhoo, back to the matter in hand... My Mum told me a couple of days ago that she was speaking to a workmate about her family and she said that I was a writer and a poet. When she told me this I was slightly stunned. My Mum looked at me and said "And that's what you are, isn't it. A writer and a poet." When my Mum said this to me, I realised that I was. And still am. I'm a writer. I may not be great, I may not create great works, I may not get paid to do it... But Godda...

Has somewhat prevented me from purchasing the luxury items my soul craves for; DVD's, CD's, Books and Hardcore Pornography... Ho ho... But this small detail didn't stop me yesterday when I was sauntering around the town centre and popped into HMV. I limited myself to £30 maximum and bought a copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy ( IMDB link ) and a rather nifty copy of Pink Floyd - The Wall 25th Anniversary (Deluxe Edition) .

Google Explains why typing the word "Failure" into their search engine took you to the official Whithouse autobiographical page for President George W Bush. Perhaps George W Bush has been associated with the word Failure because this is exactly the proper way to describe him. Or maybe that's just my opinion... But I doubt it.

This last couple of weeks I have sunk myself into the following albums. Morning Glory: The Tim Buckley Anthology. Tim Buckley - Happy Sad. Tim Buckley - Starsailor. The Stone roses - The Stone Roses . The Gossip - Standing in the Way of Control . The Charlatans - Forever: The Singles . Ray LaMontagne - Till the Sun Turns Black . Public Enemy - It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back . Prodigy - The Fat of the Land . Prince - Music from the Motion Picture "Purple Rain" . Morris Day and The Time - Ice Cream Castle . John Mayer - Continuum . Jeff Buckley - Grace (legacy edition) Jeff Buckley - Singles & EP's. James Brown - James Brown - 20 All-Time Greatest Hits! . Green Day - Nimrod . ACDC - Back in Black (Deluxe Digipak) .

Jade Goody 's career is over... Hallelujah, joy of joys, Praise be to The Grand Whazoo, Etc etc etc... Thanks to her allegedly racist attitude towards Bollywood star Shilpa Shetty. And I for one am thanking The Grand Whazoo that Jade's career is now going to spiral into the ground like a pidgeon that has just suffered a cardiac arrest. Good news indeed.

♪♫♪ Happy Birthday. ♪♫♪ So sang Stevie Wonder about Martin Luther King Jr , who would have been 78 years old today if he hadn't been shot and killed on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee on the 4th of April 1968. When I woke up this morning and switched on my computer I was greeted with an offline message from a friend of mine informing me of this so I decided that I should do something to remember Martin Luther King Jr. I trawled through my CD collection and found the disk that contains Dr King's famous " I have a dream " speech and popped it into my CD player. To read the text of the speech click here . To see a video of the speech click here .

It's ten past one in the morning and I'm just back from my dads 60th birthday party. I've had at least 20 rum and cokes and I'm surprisingly sober considering this fact. My head is just starting to thump due to the dehydration and I know I'm going to suffer even though I feel sober. When my mum and dad picked me up before the party I was warned to be on my best behaviour and spent the night being watched at every turn by my sister, my mum, my dad and a couple of others who had been told to keep an eye on me. Fuck knows why though, it's not as if I was going to set fire to the place. (Shit, as you may know, doesn't burn...) Anyhoo, the party was great. Friends and family were present and many a drink was quaffed. My dad looked resplendent in his Clan Douglas kilt and I, of course, looked good enough to eat in my jeans and a black shirt. (Black, my friends, is the new black.) But bugger sitting here typing when I should be retiring to my bed to attempt to get ...

Here's something for you all to try. Go to google and type in "Failure" (include the quote marks) and hit the I'm feeling lucky button. (Still working as of 01:10 on Sunday 14th Jan.)

I shall be partying hard at my former workplace (Yeah, that one...) despite the fact that I'm persona non grata . What is a man to do? Well, for one I'm gonna drink like there's no tomorrow and do my level best to get Lyndsay "with an I" to show me her ample breasts. Ho ho... The reason for the party is that tomorrow is my dads 60th birthday and he booked the function hall to have a little shindig that he had to ask the president for special permission for me to attend. I guess I should be on my best behaviour as I could get banned. Again...

Rage against timidity Rally your temerity Grab life by the balls. Speak out against oppression Speak up for your transgressions Justify your life. Be... An agent of Evolution. Live your life with passion Never follow fashion Individualize instead. Realize what's real Say just how you feel Be... An agent of Evolution.

♪♫♪ Is Tiggers a wonderful thing, Their tops are made of rubber, Their bottoms are made of springs, Their bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy Fun fun fun fun, But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers is... That they don't carry a gun. ♪♫♪ ************************************* Oh how I laughed when I read that Tigger bitchslapped a kid at Disney MGM Studios on Friday.

You ain't shit... This post is to let you all know that from this moment on any anonymous comments will be deleted from this blog. And if you are reading this anonymous (you know who you are) then I have this to say to you... You're a fucking spineless cunt who has less backbone than a slug.

Once commented that "Watching TV was like taking a can of black spray paint to your third eye." I'd like to go one further and state catagorically that watching celebrity Big Brother is like puting a magnum to your temple and pulling the trigger. Or at least that's how I feel after watching that shite for roughly 45 seconds. And believe me if I lived in a country where I could get my hands on a magnum this screed would never make it to posting and my walls would be redecorated a delicate shade of brain matter and blood red. The thought that there are millions of idiots sitting watching that dross fills me with an urge to hunt them all down and slaughter them. After I did that I'd have to dedicate a little time to hunting Jade Goody so I could drive railroad spikes through her eyeballs.

You Are Barney You could have been an intellectual leader... Instead, your whole life is an homage to beer You will be remembered for: your beautiful singing voice and your burps Your life philosophy: "There's nothing like beer to give you that inflated sense of self-esteem." The Simpsons Personality Test

That really gets on my pecs it's young couples who paw and grope each other in public. Only yesterday I was subjected to one young loved up couple who were in the middle of eating each others faces. That's faces by the way, just in case you misread that and thought I was subjected to the early throws of coprophiliac love... Anyhoo... I was on the bus headed into town and the two passion merchants were playing a rather energetic game of tonsil hockey from the moment they got on the bus until the moment that I couldn't take anymore and spoke up. "Excuse me, is there any chance you two could forgo the foreplay. I only got out my bed twenty minutes ago and the last thing I want to see right now is you two practically humping each other." I said. The pair separated and the guy turned to me and said, in a somewhat laconic tone of voice, "You what?" "I was asking if you two could pack it in, if you got any further down her throat you'd be able to lick ...

I was standing in the bog having a pee when a stray widdle of poorly aimed piss bounced back and splashed onto my leg. I looked down and what did I notice? Apart from the fact that my aim was terrible? I noticed that my pubic hairs made my cock and balls look like they had a handlebar mustache. I jumped in shock, and in doing so pissed all over the wall and my other leg. I reached for the scissors and trimmed my pubes into the bog. Taking care not to accidently circumsize myself in the process of course. As I watched the hair fall into the bowl I wondered if this was a sign that I'm getting old. Surely when it gets to the point that you have pubes that make your cock and balls look like Tom Selleck you're getting old. Why didn't anyone inform me of this? I'm pretty sure that someone could have mentioned it at some point... Even if it would have grossed me out at the time that kind of information is something that should be shared. Along with the knowledge that at some p...

In my youth I used to spend my Friday nights driving around Edinburgh in an orange Vauxhall Astra with a few good friends. Much dope was smoked, much acid was swallowed and much hi-jinks was gotten up to. Our usual haunts were places like the picturesque South Queensferry in the shadow of the Forth bridge , Musselburgh Harbour (which was a few hundred yards from where my girlfriend lived) and Calton Hill . These three places became something of a home for me for a few years. Many a weekend was spent either stoned, steaming drunk or off my tits on LSD. On one particular night, after we had driven around the road that winds its way around Arthurs Seat to pass some time, we noticed several fire engines and a couple of police cars sitting at the foot of the Salisbury Crags. Being the curious type we drove along to see what the fuss was. As we approached the bottom of the crags I looked up to see several firemen attempting to reach someone who was standing on the cliff. "It's a j...

That weather forecasters have stated that 2007 is set to be the hottest ever on record. As I read, I wondered how it was I'd managed to miss the more startling news headlines that weather forecasters were actually able to predict the fucking weather...

May know of the high regard I have for a comedian named Bill Hicks. Over the last few days I've constructed a page in memory of him and his works. To view the page click here . Another tribute page I've knocked together is dedicated to Hunter S Thompson. To view the Hunter S Thompson tribute page click here .

Well, the hangover to end all hangovers has finally dissipated and I'm back to whatever passes for normal. There's no longer a green tint at the edge of my field of vision and my stomach isn't churning and chundering like a cement mixer filled with horse shit. And so I begin a new year... My resolution? Well, who knows. Perhaps I should resolve to pack in the cigarettes or cut down on the junk food but that'd knock fuck out my basic diet, so bollocks to that. If you have any suggestions as to what I should make my new years resolution please leave a comment.

To one and all. I'm sitting at my mums with the biggest hangover I've had in a long time. My head feels like my brain is three sizes too big, my mouth is drier than the Sahara desert and my guts are churning and groaning like a retarded child trapped in a washing machine. And the reason for this hangover? Apart from it being new year obviously, a time when Scottish people the world over sup large amounts of booze and drink like there is no tommorow. (We are still a relatively backwards country and still aren't sure we shouldn't still be sacraficing virgins to ensure the sun rises in the morning.) Well, the main reason for the hangover I'm suffering is that I knocked back 3/4 of a bottle of Hills Absinth . It's a funny old drink Absinth, it's the kind of drink that if it were a human it'd be the kind of person who befriends you in a bar, gets you to drink a little more than usual and then mugs you for your wallet after he makes the pretense of making sure...