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Thursday, September 29, 2005

One Way Ticket on the Funicular Railway of Doom

Busy old times. Well not really, I never am. But if you want to write an interesting blog, you have to at least give the impression that you lead an interesting life. I am absolutely skint. Brassic. Unloaded. Not in debt though. Well not financially, anyway. I went on a blogger's outing last night. We (me, Merk, Rich, Old Bob, Fulla and Austin) went to see a play, Bouncers, with a certain Mr Hoffmann-Gill in it. Very good it was too. Really funny in fact. I didn't know what to expect, I'm not really much of a theatre-goer. I'd recommend it, certainly. It was played really well too, great energy on stage, freed of any shackles of pretention too. It looked like it was as much fun to act as it was to watch. I think that came across to the audience. It did to this bloke commentating behind Merk or Austin anyway. I thought maybe his partner was blind or summat, but I think he was just a twat, convincing himself of his own intelligence by commenting out loud... "ooh it's gonna kick off now". There's always one. Obviously we retired back to The Crown for binge drinking and smokes along with most of the cast.

Before that, I'd seen blog comrade Morti and the very lovely Mrs Morti last Friday. It was good to see them. He seemed to enjoy himself. I'm told anyway, I was absolutely fucking leathered on Baltikas.

I'm being encouraged to apply for a position in the Tax department at work. It's more of a career than payroll, but it sounds so dull. It's delving deeper into the grey abyss known as accountancy. It's not me is it? I'm a renegade creative genius. I'm wordy not numbery. Mind you, there's more guaranteed dosh than as an occasional poet.

I can't wait till payday tomorrow. I hate being skint. I feel helpless at home, like I have to pull my weight with actions rather than just money. I enjoy playing the role of the financially sound one in our house. Without a healthy bank balance I feel on a par the cat in the order of merit. Mind you, I've heard the cat can change a plug.

Stav.

PS. Walt's taken some top shots of delightful Dawley. See here.

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