I must be out of my tiny mind….

Well this section is basically just a little bit of nonsense about random matters I greatly care to get off my pigeon like chest. I am constantly getting harassed by the church of later day saints elders and they just don’t seem to communicate very well as you may have thought to leave me well alone unless they actually want to divulge into an intellectual conversation into why i think they are completely and utterly bonkers but for now i shall leave religion alone, if only for a while. I at the moment am typing very slowly as my ever extending unorthodox method have caused me to be situated at my laptop in a great deal of pain, you see the thing with me is, well I am very obtuse and tend to do things, well the difficult way only, henceforth today whilst dealing with plastic that i could not remove, my totally obscure brain tells me that I should do nothing else but set it on fire, as if my ideas were not strange enough i decide to span into the Neanderthal methods of being. Obviously foreseeable what was to have happened, you guessed it just as if you were to be Derek Acorah in a library, the bloody stuff went and dripped onto my bloody finger and melted its way right through the skin so I can’t get the bloody stuff out.

Rant number two, well this is a bloody awkward one. The single most attractive of all Homosapien women graces my presence every single day on the train, she sits where she is in my view and she only ever offers one or maybe two smiles at a push, the only time she communicated with my was when a selfish old trout decided to throw himself in front of our bloody train during rush hour, I then got polite communication from her and i get mixed signals. I really just want her to talk to me and tell me to go in a northerly direction and multiply with myself or be polite at least then I would know what goes on in  her bloody mind.

Here comes number three the most outrageous of all, but coming from me probably normal, why does everybody in the Warwickshire district seem to have a extremely large stick permanently lodged in there anal cavity, the whole of Warwickshire seems to be full of pompous idiots whose faces all seem to emerge like they have had their heads fixated into Mein Kumpf for a week, please for everyones sake cheer up or visit Michael Jackson’s doctor. Talking of doctors pity Harold Shipman never put in for a transfer to Warwickshire.

Today The Beardless Messiah is stressed and only loves the shit out of Old McDonald.