In My Sleep, I Grind My Teeth
Sweet jeebus - I’ve had the equivalent of about 10 shots of espresso today and I've been munching on chocolate covered coffee beans and now I’m twitching like a frickin’ tweaker.
I may, in fact, be vibrating at a high enough frequency to enable me to see into extra dimensions - I cannot decide whether to remedy this situation with copious amounts of tequila gold now, or wait till the little silver beings I’m seeing have finished explaining their method of interstellar travel. Maybe they’d be interested in doing body shots…
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The barista at Café Nero is scary, scary efficient - kind of like a Cylon would be if they were into coffee instead of eliminating all humans. (and who can guess what boxset I’ve bought now, hmm?)
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Now, my feelings regarding bagpipe players have been made clear before but we’ve had the World Piping Contest on about 500yards away from the office all week and, seriously, all the fuckers deserve kneecapping and long, slow, painful evisceration.
For starters.
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Boy on the tube - all shaven, bullet headed, tattoos and chains, combats and shit-kicking boots, proclaimed by his shirt to be ‘Certificate 18: Probably Offensive’
…offers his seat to the shopping-laden matriarch with such a shy smile.
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I booked an ‘A. Khan’ onto an event earlier and now I’ve got William Shatner bellowing “Khaaaannn!!” in my head. I hate my head.