Just ask yourself one question. What would Magnum P.I do?

Well firstly apologies for not leaving a suitable post. I noticed that lots of the regulars visited and refrained from leaving a comment.....(don't worry I won't shout at any of you)...but than it wasn't really a commentable topic.

Right, lets get down to busines then shall we? Sitting comfortably? Good......

The weekend:
As most of you may have noticed, the World Cup has started. Now I am aware that not all of you are fans of football, so if I occasionally digress into a short rant about the beautiful game, then please bear with me, it might lead somewhere comedy. Then again it might not....

So I watched the England match at home on Staurday. This was probably the first time i've watched an England world-cup game at home since 1990, as usually I would go to the pub with my friends, or at least i'd be working in the bar (which is actually quite good fun, as then I can drink just as much, but also get paid for the privilage! - Note to self, never give the address for this site to my boss...). However, as I was having my usual Cameron-Day I had to stay in. At first I was a bit disappointed with this. Not because of Cameron obviously but if he decided to be a handful it would ruin the game, so my plan was to tire him out as much as possible, in the hope that he would fall asleep at 2 (Kick-off time) and sleep through most of the match. My plan backfired a little as we went into town early on Saturday and I put him in his reins for most of the trip, which he loved as he could totter about and be generally as nosey as possible, the trouble was he fell asleep as we got home (at about mid-day) and slept for 1 & 1/2 hours. Whoops! My fears, however, were not to come to fruition as he was a realy good boy and actually spent most of the match sat next to me on the sofa just chilling out.
On Saturday evening I went to work as usual. When I got there the bar was rammed full of drunken idiots blowing horns and singing football songs. O.k. i'm as big a football fan as the next man (unless of course the next man is Lama....!) but it really pisses me off when it's world cup time and the bars hammer out all the old England world-cup tunes. Most of them, at best, are truely atrocious (possibly with the exception of "Three Lions") with the rest just being an horrendous audible assault on my ear-drums.
The situation wasn't helped by the fact that my boss was shit-faced and was therefore fully in the swing, blowing his horn (ooh-err!) and dancing about like Stephen Hawking with Fire-Ants in his crotch). Still it's the world cup.....
After work I went out to the club and got thoroughly hammered, finally walking home at about 3.30am with my mate Jamie and his brother. We took a little diversion via Mucky-Mick's burger house as I was ravenous, despite the name it is a quality little burger joint tucked away next to the train station and it's open until about 6am. He only cooks to order so Jame and I had Double cheeseburgers, onion rings and hash browns which was just what I needed after a night on the lash. By the time I got home it must have been 4 in the morning, at which point, after being far too amused by poking the fat spider on the stairs with a straw, I decided to e-mail C to see how she was. Got the reply today and when i read my efforts, I instantly realised why typing whilst blind-drunk is asuch a bad thing....I kept SLIPPIng in anD OUT Of caps lettERS and sellping thnigs worng. Ho-hum....

SUNDAY:

Got woken up by a mixture of the hangover from hell, and the fiery furnace that was radiating through my unprotected bedroom window (mental note: finally purchase a blind now that it is summer..) at 10am. Got up quite quickly though as was looking forward to a day of playing footy in the sunshine. When I got down to the park, however, I discovered that there were only 5 of us playing, which was kinda disappointing, so we had to enroll some little kids into the game instead, which is always amusing. Especially when you get realy cruel and just toy with them before shooting from about 40 yards and watching the 3 foot dwarf in goal get fired back about 5 metres by the force of the shot he attempted to save (evil, I know...).
After this I went to Bridlington*


**


for a mate's birthday barbeque and got well and truely smashed again. Not bad for a weekends work I think.


* Possibly even more scummy than Scarborough, if that is possible. Just imagine Beiruit-by-the-sea with less tea-towels and more amusment arcades.

** O.k so this is actually Scraborough, but Brid is full of weirdo's like that guy. Hmmmm, nice speedos my friend!