Did I mention *boilk*? Fucking hell. My head hurts like a pair of kicked balls this morning. Jesus. And look at how early it is. This is no time for a man to start the day.
I’m looking out the window here and I can see the dawn. Dawn is for complete and utter cunts. I once knew a girl called Dawn. She was quite nice, to be fair, but her sister was a complete slut. Many of my friends liked her for they too were complete sluts. I don’t talk to them any more. I feel no association with them whatsoever.
As well as my ongoing knee problems I now appear to have a fractured thumb. Well, it’s not quite fractured but it smarts this morning as I whacked it against a very tall Polish person during football training last night. And they say immigration is good for us, will open our minds and expand our horizons and all that. Speaking from a very personal point of view if all the Polish people can offer is painful thumbs then I can do without, thank you very much. It’s things like this that got wars started you know.
Luckily for me Mrs Blogs fed me a dinner of some rice and pork pie (at my insistence, I should add) last night. I did not trouble her with talk of my thumb for what does a woman care about her husband’s thumbs? Without such sustenance last night I would be even boilkier this morning.
Ah, I hear you say, but what about all the Arsenal news. Well, I say back, there is fuck all going on, what with all these ghastly internationals and such. I could try and dig up loads but you wouldn’t thank me for it, such is its tediousness and irrelevance.
The only slightly interesting thing is the Telegraph linking us with a Â£15m move for Aston Villa’s Gabriel Agbonlahor. Â£15m for a bloke who has scored 4 goals this season? Yet more madness and crazy pricing for English players. Don’t get me wrong, Agbonlahor looks like a decent player, but I wouldn’t pay Â£15m for him in the same way I wouldn’t pay â‚¬30 for a breakfast roll on my way to work this morning. Not even if the sausages were made from gold. Which would be hard on the belly, let me tell you.
Right, I had best be off as there is stuff to be done and work to be carried out. I have a book, I have an iPod so I don’t have to listen to anyone, and Lord help whoever’s going to sit near me on the bus because my farts are fucking toxic.
Update: Arseblog was up for an award last night as Best Podcaster in the Net Visionary Awards 2007 but sadly lost out to the glorious and non-functional podcasting brilliance of Hostel World. I may just start drinking again.