methadonepretty

So ends another year, I turn 23 tomorrow

And frankly I'm glad to see the back of 22. Over the year things have had a nasty tendency to turn around and bite me and teeth marks ain't pretty. Unless it's me biting into something tasty.

What will 23 bring? I don't know but I hope it's good. Plain sailing's frankly dull, it makes me mentally fat and lethargic, and a few exciting thrills'n'spills would be fun but nothing too Eastenders-style crash and bang. For a start, I may not be a divine beauty but I'm a damn sight prettier than most o' those munters.

Oh well, fuck the speculation, this time tomorrow I'm gonna be tanked up on spirits, heh heh.

In less philosophical news? I have a new motorised friend to take on the role of my dearly departed Emily. Her name is Daisy, she is a 10 year old Polo and she is the most garish shade of green imaginable. Oh, and her paintwork clashes with practically every article of clothing I own. Fantastic!

Work is still going good, last week I talked to a man who keeps hairy pigs that look like sheep and tomorrow I have to buy cake for everyone. Oh, and I may be doing a feature where I jump into a marina and get pulled to safety by a massive Newfoundland dog that looks like a bear. Sure beats parish council meetings

Look forward to seeing anyone who is going to Nottingham on Saturday, I'll be the one in head to toe garish red with a hangover

Laters,

MP in a silly excitable mood like the child that ate too much sugar