Wednesday, 30 May 2012


I left England eight months ago to put some distance between me and Boris Johnsons hair. I may return, but only if my demands are met.

  1. 500% Less Olympics.
  2. More free Scotch.
  3. The bones of Philip Larkin to crowned pope.
I'm reasonable.

I will possibly post more when I muster courage.

Until then kiss the Trump twice a day.


Tom x

Saturday, 21 May 2011


Tis my final day in the Norge, after I return to what some call normality and others call hell. It's been a relaxing week and a bit but I now have to return to the bank and ensure that the wheels are turning and ensuring everyones postcodes look right and not fraudulant.

Fuck it, it's apparently the rapture today anyway so hopefully I'll be dead by then.

Yep, going into heaven requires cartoon women with large breasts and a look of curious satisfaction to pursuade.


Have to keep this quick as A, we're going to get some bits from a supermarket in a minute and B, it's the end of the world today so I'm limited for time. Not being religious I find myself at a loss of how to spend the last few hours of my miserable life until I I'm left on a ravaged earth with nothing other than those above sat watching my death on God's hand watching my gruesome death. Of course this is completely justified because everyone knows a good virtuous person is one who enjoys watching the deaths of others. And we all deserved it because we didn't agree. However in reality what's going to happen is a lot of Doom Prophets will be out of pocket tomorrow having sold their belongings and given up their jobs and we'll all just get on with our lives. Until a few years time when some other mad man will gain enough followers and say the world is ending resulting in the process repeating, ad finitum.

Until presumably the world ends.

I was going to put something more relevant here but upon finding a picture of George Lucas apparently bumming Yoda I got sidetracked

There are three things I feel worth learning from the events of "the rapture" anyway so that we can hopefully learn something and move on.

1: The world ending is not a quick process, it will not happen fast no matter how much we will it, in fact it will be a slow gruelling process inwhich people will continue to kick around for years afterwards because we can't let it go. In fact the world will probably end because of a overreliance of unrenewable resources but hell.

2: People can be made to believe anything, so long as it involves subordinating others and a feeling dominating others. I'm not against religion, in many way it teaches a good moral code and life lessons. But when a leftover message from centuries ago of how you have to follow a certain religion of face death in the most horrible of ways, then I start to stop listening. Metaphysics and modern day world do not mix all too well.

3: The media love a good story. Or in this case a terribly stupid story. Which to them is a good story. I was blissfully ignorant about the end of the world till yesterday and now today everyone and their nan knows about the rapture. It's a few individuals in the world who like to waste their belongings on the grounds that a 89 year old told them they wouldn't need them by 6pm. Sod it all. This is now worldwide and we've only got the mass coverage to blame. Bollocks to it anyway.

So there we go, the end of the world lessons. But one thing begs asking.

What about people currently in space? Do they escape the rapture or not?

Sod it all anyway!



Tom XXxxxXX

Saturday, 14 May 2011


I have moved and will move again.

This is to resemble moving. Jpegerific. Whatever happened to terrible clipart, the ones that you could buy from poundstretcher promising 1000's of pictures of badly drawn day to day objects. Those CDs made my childhood, you could buy them cheap along with discount copies of Dogz 3. Whatever happened to Dogz 3? Well they just made Dogz 4. Simple enough.


Or should I say


Sat in Haugesund not particularly doing an awful lot, Rikkie is working the days and tilling so it gives me enough time to fill in the blanks of what has happened over the last few months et al. "It's been quite eventful" as a historian might say about the industrial revolution, "a lot has happened". One such thing would be the royal wedding, but unfortunately that would have no relevence in my life whatsoever but as a point of reference for what is happening in the world; there you go. Firstly I have moved. As if Manchester wasn't enough I have upped and relocated to the closer to hometown joy that is Leeds. There are benefits to this, I know Leeds well, it has various pub I like to frequent. I know people in Leeds, I can see Arnold Bray and Ronnie the Rhino more than once a year, however Leeds lacks one thing that really would help in life.

Werk. As per usual. The problem here being that Rikkie cannot find work and I'm still in bank job, which is fine if I'm content with spending my life in the darkest corner of a back office looking at something which closely resembles a mixture of the matrix code and a haunted spreadsheet. So away I go looking. In Olso.

So Rikkie has now got work. In Oslo. Oslo is better than most of England. So I did the maths. Olso>Leeds. There we go, maths away. So from this I've decided to try and get out of England. 45% because of David Cameron too. And his massive forehead. But plans in motion and all let's not dwell over careers and all the joys, let me describe some commuters like I used to.

The all new professionals- These are two lads, about my age who catch the train at the same time every day. They are the perfect bridge between what can be described as "the younger generation" and "old cuntish businessmen". But these aren't too bad. Same cannot be said for...

Dance music Businessman- Dance music businessman must have been into rave during the eighties. He looks borderline last of the summer wine material and listens to the most lo-fi dance music through earphones which must make more noise outside than inside the ear. It strikes me as strange that such an smartly dressed man can listen to such modern shit.

The soggy boy- College goer who seldom appear on the train, I'm undecided whether his long hair has wet or unwashed. Looks like an explosion in a gaudy factory. Wears clothes with silver on. Annoys me, but only through the jealously that I can no longer dress like a train wreak anymore.

And lastly...

The rival boots man- On commuter trains there is usually little room to sit, especially since Guiseley is the last stop before the city. This makes standing places highly sought after, each carriage has 4 leaning bars near to the train doors. We both run for these, in the land of the blind, the leaning bar man is king. Each morning on the platform we position ourselves to near where to door stops so that we can sieze these places as soon as possible. As he wears large boots.

Devil looks pretty male to me.

Kind regards,


PS; will proof read later when I give two shits.

Tuesday, 26 October 2010


Sorry I'm not sure what heppened there, I phased out and it was October. As for the previous months I can only summerise what happened during the period.

Buses and Chaps.

(That's clearing house automated payment system...)


It has been roughly 6 years since I last web logged about the recurring infrequent joys contained in the period that I call my life. Where to be begin to update you? Personally I know myself well enought to say that my short term memory is the worst part of the grey matter in my head so I shall describe what has been happening in the long term.

I have joined a gang. Not a biker gang, for I do not own any form of two wheeled vehicle nor multipled wheeled vehicle for that matter. This therefore excludes me from being in any car gangs if you are not very bright, like say Mr Tiger Little. However it is a gang of bus users, yes I have become a commuter. This transition was not one that stands out as a proud turn in my life, however a necessary one, say a 17 year old learns that they must stop playing with Lego. A commuter to me is someone in London who goes to a job which the countries masses of corperate centre relies on. I am neither in London or doing anything that will change the world.

But a gang none the less, which is odd because it is a silent gang, in that we do not talk to one another, but rather eminate a mutual respect because we got up early for reasons we don't like but we won't like the man deter our spirits. In this gang are three people, we alone are enough to know that between us the gang is big enough and strong enough to conquer fallowfield.

Wouldn't be difficult, it's a shithole.

So who is in this gang? Myself obviously, and you know myself, that big coat wearing twat I am, I would say I'm the nearest to the leader as I am the bravest, yes, I wave down the bus in the morning (That's the 7.30 Finglands to Piccadilly I'll have you know) (Fuck those Magic Buses). First to the stop, the most punctual some say, is Mr Beenie Hat, he's a middle aged man with a black hat on, he's the muscle if anything. He could punch through a stagecoach bus some say, straight through like bullet.

Second To him is Tiny Woman, she has the powers of conversation with bus drivers, and the ability of being small, which would come into hand if, say, she was asked to go into a small cupboard. She arrives slightly after Mr Beenie Hat, the rebelious one some say, and has a +1 combat multiplier on fire attacks.

Love Dougal


(I'll check the grammer later, any mistakes can fuck off)

Saturday, 12 June 2010

The mundane constant

Sat at flat, it's been about a billion years since I've posted a response. But alas I feel an imperative to do so due to having the free time, I've spent the last 6 months in a self replicating cycle of actioning bank shit and sleep. This circular lifestyle has altered time, and now I feel the world is shuttling faster than ever and I shall be 60 before I know it.

Bullshit aside.

But yes I feel like the last 6 months of working have gone faster than say, any half a year on record. Which leads me to believe that there is either a government conspiracy to speed up the time of day, say what was once 24 hours is now, 2 days, and each day is now 12 hours. Maybe I'm just getting old and notice things less, the pent up commuter inside of me is taking over while I shuffle to my mundane location of work and chow down my side portion of metro while looking at numbers on a computer screen. That must be it, I've turned into the person who gets on with his life rather than arguing with the existance of trees or anything else for that matter. Three years of philosophy at university is the equivalent of a brief spell of a psychiatric problem, but rather then attempt a cure, they just cut your head open and poke some more grey matter. And you pay for the priviledge. So am I blaming 3 years in philosophy for my speeded up perception of time?


Problem is you eventually have to come back to Earth, after spending 3 years saying how can we never know anything, value is relative, and we can never know there is cake on the table, you're demanded to live in the world you've just picked apart, like trying to wear a jumper that you've just unraveled for the hell of it. So now going into the 'real' world riding on your highhorse fed on meta-ethics and empiricism, a man will approach, shake his head at you and send the horse off the the glue factory. And you get employed as a cog changer in the same factory. Just for the sake of irony. So yes, having to live in a world which you forgot existing about 3 years ago causes the simple solution/problem posing as a solution that we turn ourselves off in order to cope with the mundane constant work.

Don't ask questions, forget the anarchist dreams, and just get on with it, because we've released how much effort it is to live, and costly.

Don't forget costly.

So here's my pact, I'm going to earn enough money to get by, and then on my 30th I'm going to establish myself as an arachist leader. See how far that gets me.

Don't forget plans children. If you're not working towards something, then something is very wrong.