6 10 2010

It’s 3 a.m. and again I can’t sleep. What’s wrong with me? This has been going on for the two weeks since I got back from my holiday in America. At first I blamed jet lag but it’s been too long to drag out that excuse. I went to bed at 9.30 this evening feeling run down, worn out and flu like and slept for just over an hour, I think I would rather have just stayed up.

It’s both depressing and worrying, I try my best not to lose my temper and start banging my head against a wall but that is more for the benefit of the people I live with. I just want to sleep.

My day times pass in a disengaged haze, I can’t claim full responsibility for what I say or do because I’m not me. Me is a tired loss of a man who spends, what seems the majority of his time, staring at a darkened box room. I want to sleep, I’m tired, physically it’s making me ill but mentally it is so much harder. I go from day dreaming to a bout of hating myself, then hating the world, dabble in a bit of self-pity and then back to day dreaming. BUT STILL NO SLEEP.

There’s no one to blame, there’s no one of any importance who I can try and talk to about this awful insomnia whilst I’m suffering through it. It’s just me in a dark room waiting for my mind and body to agree that I’ve had enough torture and letting me sleep.

More things I hate

12 05 2010


People who talk loudly on their phone in public…. FUCK OFF


People who get arsey if you don’t say “Bless you” when they sneeze. I didn’t say it because I hope you have Spanish flu and die

The Daily Mail

Happy people

Musical families (I just don’t trust them)

People who take Twitter seriously

That’s it for now.


31 03 2010

Piers URGH Morgan.

Look at that face and tell me you have no desire to punch it on the nose? A man who has built his entire television persona on being the most dislikeable twat in England. A smarmy, poo faced, snot nosed, arse eared, public school product who would look so much better with a bus being driven into his face at speed. He has done more to endear Simon Cowell to the public by just sitting beside him on a Saturday and being himself. I hope for his sake I never pass him in the street, having had a drink, carrrying a heavy blunt object.


The slappable Michael McIntyre striking a pose here. It’s as if he’s inviting me to come and kick him hard, brutally and squarely in the nuts. A lot of us are familiar with the feeling of turning on the BBC to watch Mock the Week or Have I Got News For You and realising this squeaky, excitable prat is on. No matter what other guests are on, it could even be Jesus, the programme is ruined. I can’t wait to go to his funeral.

Gok Wan(ker)

I didn’t mind this fashion guru type creature, I was sure she knew her stuff and was helping out her (fat) sisters, then it came to my knowledge she was a he and I realised how much the world doesn’t need people like it.

Poncing around exploiting emotional needy women and teaching them “How to look good naked”. Bollocks. How about having your eyes plucked out and fed to a stray dog “How to not look at all because some mad Irishman has defaced me”.