Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Well, though today is yet young it's been pretty good.

I interviewed Pat Ingoldsby earlier and it went really well.

I mean, first off I was late (not very late... But enough that he told me off for it.) and secondly I hadn't prepared any questions. This, in itself, isn't that new for me. I don't hold with specific questionaring anyway, but it always makes me feel a little unprofessional - though I've yet to get any complaints. I reckon most people are too polite to give out to me. After all, I Am The Press!

*coff*

Yeah, and Pat was really cool. We had coffee and chatted and I recorded it and he read a couple of poems for me... (deep breath)...

One of the oddest things was this skinhead nut-job who'd just been flung from the amusement arcade next door wandering into the pub we were in. He asked Pat where the toilets were and Pat said, "Were you just fucked out of the arcade next door?" to which the fella replied, "I wasn't fucked out, it was a bit of a disagreement is all..." At which point he tottered off to the loo and when he came back he put on his scary face and re-approached our table, "Did you see me get thrown out of next door?"

Pat: I saw you get asked to leave.

Weirdo skinhead: And what did I do then?

Pat: You left.

WS: That's right... I did... (at this point he started to look a bit sheepishly shifty and wandered off, not quite sure why he hadn't gotten into a fight. Possibly a bit disappointed. "No trouble, no trouble at all..." said Pat to me.)

It was just a surreal situation to find myself in. Pat seems to have this severe disdain for journalism in general, but he agreed to help me because it was a college project and not an article for the Star.

I could go on for ages about this, but I won't. I'll paste the article up when I write it - p'raps. I'll certainly stick up a couple of his poems when I get the chance. Now I'm going to attempt to post a picture again. If it's as successful as my last attempt it won't be very...

Ahem...

What box with a cross in? I don't see no boxes...

Things wot I dislike include...

People who smoke on buses!

I know it seems to be a sort of running theme so far, but these people should be put up against the wall and riddled with bullets. The average bus journey is 20 minutes from start to finish - can you not hold on for that long? And if you pull the scumfuck bastards up on it, there's a knife in yer face! Or a syringe. Oh, how I love Dublin...

On a lighter note:
Off to see the Incredibles tonight. That should be fun. I just read Watchmen, by Alan Moore (this is something which Paul, the only person who seems to be reading this blog, already knows, but what the hell...) and I notice it has a similar, if darker, storyline to it. Which is jolly exciting, isn't it?

I'm considering putting some marvellous pictures up on here, but I'm not at all certain how to go about such a task. The 'help' section on Blogger is, unsurprisingly, as unhelpful as every other 'help' section I've ever come across. They should rename them - 'no help' or 'yer on yer own mate, we don't know'. I crave honesty in all things. Except my own cunningly crafted lies...

Anyway, that should do for now. I'm going to play with the piccie program, 'Hello'.
Goodbye.

Hoo-haaaaaah!

Wow!

Just found this comic strip www.wigu.com it's helluva funny. There's a blog attatched to it at www.overcompensating.com, also by Jeff Rowland. I think it actually redirects you thru the wigu site, but hey, that just makes it easier to find the two. Cos they're both in the same place. Like, together. N' stuff.

My darling Sarah forced me to watch Mean Girls last night. I'm of the opinion that this shouldn't be allowed. It is not a good movie, no matter what Smash Hits and Just Seventeen may have had to say about it.

I was watching this show the other night which had Rutger Hauer doing 'in-betweenie' bits. It was called Shock Treatment and was, basically, a reality show in which morons get tortured. And it got me to thinkin'...

Why not advertise a show called Morons Get Shot (or alternatively, I'm a Moron, Shoot Me!) in mags and rags. Look for, 'Willing volunteers - must be prepared to get shot.' I guarantee morons would sign up, send in audition tapes and beg to be allowed onto this show. Get them on the show and in the course of some stupid gameshow format - shoot the buggers. It deserves thought... If the director of stupid programming for E4 is reading this, I want a slice of the action!

Anyway, I think I've blogged enough rubbish for one day. Gotta book launch to attend (hey, free wine! Wahey!)... Beaucoup de cool...

Adieu!

Phew!

Hmmm... This is slightly more difficult than I thought it would be. There's all this signing in stuff that you have to go through. *sigh* The price of immortality.

OK.

I'm killing time right now after having met with my dissertation tutor to discuss my, ahem, dissertation, which is actually about blogs. So I better make this 'un a good 'un! Apparently my girlfriend is on her way up now and we're off to some art gallery or other. Hurrah!

Bye fer now.

First tentative steps...

Well, here it is, at last. The blog of me.

It's about time I got round to doing this, what with my age-old interest in blogging. The idea that I can write any auld nonsense (like this) and it'll be preserved for all eternity in cyberspace really amuses me...

I'll try get back to this later, but for now I have to push off and think about dissertations and other such boring things.

Hurrah!