What a Cnut.

Today was a spectacular day in the life and times of our hero, the Right Honorable Dr Ross Douglas (B.n.g A.o.h) Monsters were battled with and slain, maidens fair swooned at his feet and the Powers That Be were dealt a blow from which they may never recover. Thanks to the author of this blog knowing our Hero on a personal level there now follows a description of the day through his eyes... The sun streamed through my bedroom and woke me. A quick glance at the digital clock informed me it was 11:23 and I dragged my body into an upright position. I coughed and cleared the lump of guff from the top of my lungs and reached for my cigarettes. I staggered through to the toilet and took a piss as I lit my first cigarette of the day. I shook the dribbles from my dick and took a look at myself in the mirror. The Little Voice that resides in my head spoke to me. "You really should finish cleaning the house you know." It said. "FUCK OFF!" I screamed at my reflection, hoping t...

I've decided to spend most of this week reading. Lyndsay "With an I" Brown ( Who you can visit by clicking here ) came into work at the club on Saturday night with eight books for me to read. Plus I've still to plough my way through Descartes, Freud and Darwin so it's into the pages I shall sink. The books Lyndsay "With an I" brought in are as follows. Richard Pryor - Pryor Convictions. Chuck Palahniuk - Haunted. Dave Eggers - A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius. Chuck Palahniuk - Diary. Bret Easton Ellis - Less Than Zero. Franz Kafka - Metamorphosis. Vladimir Nabokov - Lolita. Natsuo Kirino - Out. I'm terribly tempted to get up early tomorrow to head into town to spend the day lazing under a tree somewhere reading. The plus side is that if I do this I can avoid doing the rest of the housework.

Don't panic. This isn't some kind of suicide note. I've just had enough of cleaning for the day and have decided that the time has come to sit down and roll a spliff while Jeff Buckley belts out Grace and the sun is shining through my window. I've cleaned up the livingroom, hoovered and dusted, the bathroom has had a bottle of bleach thrown at it and I've done two loads of washing. That's more than enough cleaning for me for one day. I did give some consideration to begining to tackle the dishes but I can't decide if they'll be usable after cleaning so I've abandoned them for the better things in life. Such as Jeff Buckley, joints and my thoughts.

So why bother in the first place? I knew I'd have to clean some of the house when I got up this morning. Well, actually, I knew I'd have to clean most of the house as it's in such a state that even the most desperate illegal immigrant, or escaped mental patient, would think twice about living in it... The kitchen resembles the Withnail & I set... The dishes in the sink resemble the leaning tower of Pisa. The fridge is home to a lump of mouldy cheese, a jar of black olives, a pineapple and a jar of seafood sauce. The only thing that's missing is Richard E Grant ranting and raving... "There is a strange colour growing on the worktop!" The bathroom is also a sight to behold... There are enough empty toilet roll tubes for Blue Peter to recreate the space battle from Star Wars and the crud that has gathered in the plughole of the bath is only waiting for an extra molecule of some kind to enable it with independent thought and self government. The living-room ...

Of my holiday has been a super-lazy one. I dropped my head onto my pillow at 4am this morning and surfaced at 11:30am. Twenty minutes later I was asleep again. For another six hours.

That Sir David Niven was dead? To be honest I thought so too. Until tonight when he came into my work. Luckily I had my camera with me and asked Sir David to pose for a picture. Sadly Sir David couldn't stay for very long as he was claimed he was going out for a drink with Cecil B Demille and Frank Sinatra.

Anita Thompson has started writing a blog. Check it out here . There is also a Gonzo store where you can buy official Hunter S Thompson goodies. Check it out here .

I'm on holiday next week. What am I to do? I did consider grabbing my tent and disappearing into the Scottish scenery for a few days of solitude and separation. But I may, however, spend the week lying in my bed wanking like a monkey. One thing is for sure, I'll not be popping into my work for any reason. I don't care if the rum is cheap and the stagger homewards is relatively short, I'm not going down that road.

That just after Lord "I'm a firestarter" Watson gets out of jail there just happens to be a huge fire in an Istanbul airport ? Does anyone know if Watson was planning a holiday abroad to celebrate his release?

As my pledge to keep away from bookshops is still in effect I was somewhat stuck for something to do today. So I thought I'd get some batteries for my camera and go into town to get some pictures of the Scottish Parliament building. Little did I realise that in doing so I would end up walking around town looking for a herd of cows. The Cowparade is being held in Edinburgh over the next ten weeks. To save you lot the bother of going out and seeing them yourselves I took the trouble of grabbing pictures of them for you. Ain't that nice of me? To see the pictures click here .

I decided that it wasn't really very nice of me to rip the piss out of the Scottish Parliament without allowing you all to judge it for yourselves. So in order to let you all see for yourselves I took my camera and got some pics for you. Ain't that really nice of me? To View the pictures click here .

While flicking through a copy of womens weekly that a co-worker had brought in to read while she was on her break I stumbled across the craziest advert I have ever laid eyes on. "HOW TO TALK TO YOUR CAT." "Open up a whole new communication between you and your cat." If you're a cat lover like me, and wish to communicate better with your pet for a deeper, more loving relationship, then you'll want to out how to talk to your cat. And that's where a new guide -"Your talking Cat" - can really help you... especially when it comes to understanding what your cat is actually saying - not just what you think she is saying. It begins. It goes on to make the claim that "Cats are scientifically proven to possess certain telepathic powers for reading the true mindset of a human companion." Now, I'm no scientist and I openly admit that my reading of scientific journals has been poor of late, but I'm sure if humanity had invented some sort o...

Is from the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. To grab a copy of this just click on the picture and save a copy.

It's Lordi. I watched the Eurovision song contest last night. Kinda. What I actually did was flick between watching and stabbing myself in the leg with a fork just to make a comparison between the two things. (The results weren't conclusive but I'm swaying towards the leg stabbing being the more pleasant pastime.) True to tradition the Terry Wogan-Bot was taken out of the storage cupboard in the BBC's special effects department and was plugged in to charge its batteries so it could commentate on the proceedings. (This is the real reason you don't actually get to see the Wogan-Bot at the ceremony. In recent years it can't get past the metal detectors at the airports.) After fifteen minutes of watching/stabbing I couldn't stay awake anymore and sleep took me. Either that or I passed out through sheer boredom.

TV Cream Themes Alphabetical listing of classic TV theme tunes. Good fun if you fancy killing an hour or so of your life remembering classic TV shows and cartoons from your youth.

But no Ted or Alice. Though, to be fair, for all I know there may have been an Alice... This morning I hauled my arse out of bed, showered, dressed, rolled a joint and headed into town. The High Street was my destination, so off I toddled. (I didn't literally toddle, I've become quite proficient in walking since I first started at about the age of one and a half.) I've been threatening to pop into Yvoone's work for a couple of weeks now so just for the laughs, and having pledged to stay out of bookshops until I've caught up with my reading pile, I headed for Clarinda's Tea Shop. While walking down the High Street I looked around and saw swarms of Japanese tourists clicking away with digital cameras and decided that I'd have an attempt at seeing Edinburgh through their eyes. (I could throw in a deeply racist joke here by saying I squinted my eyes and put on an oriental accent but I'm not about to, so forget it.) Clarinda's tea Room is a strange littl...

[Authors note: This skit is an attempt at a skit for the TV show Dead Ringers .] (The scene opens in the Oval Office of the White House. George W Bush is sitting behind his desk. He begins to address the nation.) Bush: Fellow Armenians, the time has come for strong leadership in our war on globule terroristicality. In a recent survey conductified by me and my daddy we discovered a state who sponsorificates terrorists. (Cut to: A large map. It has Venezuela written across it in bold type.) Bush: This is... (He begins to read the name of the country by running his finger along the letters as he reads.) ...Vee-nez-oo-ella. (He looks off camera.) Did you see that daddy? I read it proper. (He turns back to camera.) Bush: After speakifying to my daddy (He looks off camera again and waves.) I have come to the conclusification that we the United Steaks of Armenia must take steps to bring this rogue state to justice. After conferifying further with my faithful dog Barney I have decidified that...

I'm introducing a new feature to my blog. "This weeks desktops" will feature whatever pictures I'm using for my desktop. To download just click on the picture and save a copy.

Since I posted on here? Shame on me. I almost feel guilty for not keeping you all abreast of the goings on in the life and times of me. But then the feeling passes and I remember that I'm not writing this blog to satiate your lust for depravity, mayhem and sordid tales of masturbation. (Which this blog could so easily descend into...) Truth be told it's been a quiet week really. There have been minor hickups on the road to enlightenment but nothing major has decided to steer itself in my direction and the cosmic wheel still turns. I've popped a few billion sperm onto my stomach, slept, scratched my arse, smoked at least a hundred and thirty cigarettes, swallowed several pills, smoked fifty to sixty joints, worked and slept. An average week really. There has, however, been enough drama on here to keep you all on tenterhooks. Will Tootsie ever meet Kev? Is Kev really named Andy? Is Kev/Andy really off to foreign parts with the Army? Are there two Kevs? Will channel four make...

To stay the hell away from all bookshops for at least a month. Or possibly two given the amount of books that sit on the mantelpiece unread and gathering dust. The list of unread books goes as follows... Descartes. Key Philosophical Writings. Democracy in America. Alexis de Tocqueville. Darwin. The Origin Of The Species. Freud. The Interpretation of Dreams. Graham Greene. The Comedians. Gordon Graham. Philosophy of the arts. An introduction to aesthetics. Gary G Graham. The Cannabis Octet. Martin Amis. Night Train. Dean Koontz. Sole Survivor. So, all in all, I think I may have enough reading material to keep me going for a while...

I fear something. It's not a big fear really, it's more of a small worry than a fear if I'm being truly honest. It's probably one of those things that people suffer from. Like those who fear the number 13 ( triskaidekaphobiacs ) or those who have an irrational fear of spiders ( arachnophobics ). But my fear isn't as stupid as those are. I mean, come on, 13 is just a number and a spider ain't shit to a decent sized shoe or a rolled up newspaper. Deal with it. The problem mainly stems from my general lack of care as to how I look. If you were to put me into a police line up with an assorted cross section of society I'd be the person most likely to be picked out at random as the one who looks like he would steal the sugar from your coffee without you even noticing. This annoys me. I'm a generally well balanced human being, I just couldn't care less than a fuck if someone else's perception of me is flawed. And I'm no stranger to this human foibl...

After waking up this morning and looking around the house I realised that I should dedicate the day to tidying up and doing some laundry. Then the voices in my head started. "Fuck that." One said. "It's not all that bad." Said another. "You've got a fucked shoulder, take it easy." Said yet another. I commanded the voices to stop talking and thought about the situation. Ten minutes later I was on a bus heading into town, away from the visual reminder of a pile of washing so high that the Army could use it for altitude training and the everyday detritus my coffee table, desk, bedside shelf and floor seem to produce out of nowhere. Armed with my MP3 player and my book I sat in Princes Street gardens and whiled away five hours. I read my newspaper and some of my book as my music played. I had a few surreptitious shmokes and watched the world go by. I spent at least an hour and a half staring at a leaf on a tree and wondered what it was like to be that...

Sits Tony Blair pondering the state of The State. Newspapers calling for his resignation are strewn across the desk in front of him... A well dressed gentleman walks in. He is a slim man who, visually, has all the charm of a hungry Buzzard. He speaks and reveals his tone of voice to be exactly how you would expect a hungry Buzzard to sound if it were able to convey its thoughts. "Prime minister. There is a major swing in support for the opposition. There are letters calling for your resignation being circulated by backbenchers. Your public support is dwindling as is your parties support. Strong action must be taken." Says The Man. Tony Blair looks directly into the mans eyes. "There will be no resignation." He says, coldly. "The powers that be demand it. You are aware of how much power they have." Says The Man. He gently clears his throat as if to indicate an association and continues speaking. "Perhaps you need reminding of their reach." "I...

The following video is not suitable for children, co-workers or people with no sense of humor.

I've been off my work for almost a week now with a fucked shoulder. I'm so bored of the four walls of my house that I actually considered redecorating. Seriously considered. I gave the thought at least six seconds of wandering around my brain before I called the whole farce to an end. Trust me, when it comes to interior decorating, six seconds is a very, very, very long time. Universes can be created in six seconds and redecorated in seven. All it took to rip me back to reality was the thought, "What goes nice with sky blue?" After this thought comes such mentalist statements as... I'd quite like a breakfast bar , some wicker chairs would look good in the study , Would a hat-stand be too much when you take into consideration the chaise longue ... and, from then on in you're well and truly fucked. As soon as you give a longer thinking time than six seconds to these notions you're on the rocky road to ruin. Next comes delusions of grandeur that would make, ...

Last month I made it my duty to inform the public at large that they should never work for fuckwits . This month I'm making it my cause célèbre. I've just been to the bank to cash my wages cheque. Sorry, that last sentence is slightly misleading, what it should say is... I've just been to the bank to try to cash my wages cheque. The difference being a three lettered word and a whole lot of hassle. Once again I was informed by the bank that the cash isn't made out to clear straight away. I asked why the cheque wasn't able to be cleared and the money deposited into my account and was told by the assistant that even though the cheque has "Salary cheque" written on it the cheque isn't made out to cash. "Mr Banky Man he say dem paper no good massa!" My negro slave would no doubt say if I was stuck in the timewarp that my workplace seems to be stuck in. I mean come on, what the fuck is so difficult about making sure that staff are paid on time? It...

I don't know what the world is coming to these days. After giving kudos to the grub4u site a couple of days ago I'm forced to re-evaluate my judgment as their site has been down for three days now. This has forced me into walking to the local take-away twice in the last two days. Ok, so the exercise will do me good but that's not the point. If you're going to run a site that people such as myself see as a great way to avoid people then at least have the decency to make sure it's running smoothly.

And now so can you by clicking here . I think I'll send google an e-mail asking when the next time the satellite will be passing overhead so I can look up and smile for the picture.

Was May-Day. A day on which people commemorate something. What they commemorate I don't know... Perhaps there is an historic figure who was named May and the powers that be decided that we should all have a day off of work to remember her good deeds. Which, despite all good efforts, has failed miserably as I'm fucked if I know who May was, never mind what she did that was so fantastic as to warrant a day when the shops close and you can't get a decent fried breakfast for love or money. Or perhaps this is the day when sailors around the world put aside their differences and help each other. (Which would go a long way to explain why you're supposed to yell May-Day when you're in need of rescuing.) As someone who was fathered by someone who has salt in his blood I know that sailors can be an unruly mob who would argue, that black was white and that Bo Diddly was a better guitarist than Jimi Hendrix, just for the sheer hell of it. (I'm not about to use this post to ...