The hills are alive... with the sound of music!
Or no, make that North London's alive with the sound of the boiler in the kitchen groaning. But don't worry, there's a song for mornings like this...
New Order: Blue Monday (Freemasons Mix), Shakedown CD 2.
Shake it baby.
Will.i.am is very chatty at the gym this morning.
On a scale of 1 - 10 with ten being as chatty as a horse-racing commentator having done a line of coke the size of Jeff Stryker's knob, Will.i.am is about 6.2.
He says his personal trainer roster is filling up, he can't control himself when he's around his new flatmate (for it is a she) and he needs a place to park his car because the council are charging too much and mentions that he worked out on Sunday and did abs and then he lifts his T-shirt and...
He can talk as much as he bloody likes, as long as he uses flashes of skin as full stops.
And it's go! go! go! on La Ligne De La Centrale...
10:15We're in a meeting which I predict will go on for far too long so today we decide to list the A-Z of rude words, starting with arse...
L: Love muscle
R: Rusty Trombone
And them meeting has ended and that's good because I can't think of any more rude words to fill in the blanks. Go mad...
So Steven asks how my weekend was and I say "oh, great thanks..." which excuses a lot.
Should I tell him about being pissed amongst tens of thousands of the homos on Saturday or what about the early hours of Sunday morning? Maybe I should tell him about that.
Me standing in the fucking club and I start talking to a guy who serves in the Army. We're gassing and laughing (and maybe even flirting) when An Utter And Complete Tosser sees this and fucking angles his way in front of me.
Army boy looks at me as if to say "what the fuck...?" and I can't be bothered so instead of standing my ground and saying to Fucking Cunting Tosser, "er, dude fuck off..." I don't and just walk away.
And then I think out of politeness Army boy speaks to Tosser and this irritates me even more so I leave.
And I'm standing outside seething and playing with my iPod, wondering do I go back inside or do I leave? Next thing Army boy says "hey, sorry - your friend just totally moved in..."
"Yeah, I know him but he's not really a friend, anyway... listen I'm going home. I'm bored."
And Army boy asks "well, don't you want to stay for another drink?" And then I reach into my bag and haul out a sharpened machete and there, standing on the pavement, I proceed to slice my nose clean off...
"Thanks but nah..."
What I mean is: "no - you go and talk to your new little friend called Tosser."
I walk off into the night.
(FYI: This syndrome is known as Hurting Others First Who You Fear Could Hurt You syndrome and is widely prevalent amongst the homos.)
I nearly have a mini vomit on the Jubilee Line thanks to the guy who - actually, I didn't even bother to see what he was wearing...
The doors open.
Him and his mate get on.
They look at the map.
He opens his gob.
"Ay man, that Tube map is well confuse dot com"
Listen, I love you dearly but if you ever put the words dot com at the end of a sentence because you think it makes you sound cool, I will donkey punch you.
Today's lesson is: if you own a Bentley Continental you can park it wherever and however the hell you want to!
Sally - that's my housemate over there filling the bath up with boiled water from the kettle - is going to Ibiza (fucking praise be...).
She's trying to find some choons dot com to take with her while they're all (her straight friends them all) drinking lemonade and eating crisps around the swimming pool at the villa.
She's tried everything from the latest Ministry of Sound CD to Gatecrasher on iTunes and nothing is sounding too good.
"Oh I think I have a CD for you... A friend gave it to me..."
So Sally listens to this CD and apparently it's perfect!
The thought of a whole bunch of straight people in Ibiza lounging around to the sounds of XXL Gay Bear & Leather Pride 7 (Men, Fur, Fun) amuses me a little.
On a scale of 1 to 10 I think today rates around -7. I'm going to bed.