Ok, so I drank a lot of energy drink and I'm a little off my head...

What are you winking about?
Wait until I get my hands on you...
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Well, I should be writing an essay. But it's ok, my girlfriend won't find this blog post. I mean, she doesn't have a computer in the kitchen, does she? Do you know what I'm saying gents? wink wink, nudge nudge.
 Anyone who laughed because they agreed with that, not because it was ironic, should be ashamed. Bad men! Bad!
 Anyone who laughed because it was ironic should also be ashamed. It wasn't that funny.

Anyway, where was I going with this? I don't think it's about corporatism in Fascist Italy, that's another writing in thing... Oh yea, I remember:
 I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME NEIL!
I mean, seriously. This isn't a profound blog. I just ramble madly. Like this. Except usually less madly, because right now I'm full of taurine and caffeine. Anyway, yea. Not a profound blog. Ramble. And so on.

Sorry, this isn't personal abuse. Unless you're a Nazi or something. Nazism was a unique variation of fascism, characterised by biological racism and anti-Semitism. Damn, wrong page... Anyhow, so no to reading this if you're a Nazi. Or Glenn Beck. Or the people who stole my flatmate Steve's bike last year.

So yea. I'm sorry, but I think you're approaching the blog the wrong way. It's probably my fault - the fact I use a persona and the same characters again and again probably makes it seem like this is somehow based in reality. Using random characters who don't seem properly fleshed out would probably express the madness better. So I'm sorry for that. (Incidentally, that was Hayley's point. I just wanted to shake you and shout "It doesn't make sense! It doesn't make sense! I don't even know what it means!" Over and over again.)

But yea. I think that's where I was going with this. Sorry to most people who won't understand what this means. I certainly don't know what it means either.

What's taurine anyway?

It's been a few days...

I'm sorry I haven't blogged for some time, but I've been trapped in the bowels of a Martian Spaceship. There, they carried out horrific tests on me, such as making me write essays on the history of European tourism...
 However, orchestrating a cunning distraction using a funnel and a bag of grass clippings, I escaped from the ship and fell all the way to safety. It would appear I'm indestructible. I intent to push my luck by wrestling fire-spewing bears for a living.

I sat down, wobbled the mouse lightly, and looked sadly at the sketchy outlines of my essay. Well, it was a start, I suppose. It was quite literally a start: the title, and fourteen words down, 1,986 to go. Could be worse.
I began to psych myself up to start, shaking my hands and roaring and the like in a businesslike fashion. I stretched out my hands, reaching for the keyboard...

Tragically, I sprayed Cillit Bang in my eyes a few moments later. It was just so tempting.
despite the shouty man on TV, it cleans fuck all. My sink, my pennies, TV, grandmother, car and Venereal disease ridden whore are still dirty.