Boredom

I'm a lazy and slightly useless blogger. I write a little blog ever half a year or so, and I never share any interesting or insightful information. I'm not bothered though, and I shant step up my blogging efforts. What a negative start! Marvellous!

I've been awake since 7am. I wouldn't usually mention such a trivial piece of information, but I'm a teacher and it's the blooming summer holidays. I should be sleeping until the afternoon and snorting coke of buxom ladies chests. I was really excited for 7 weeks of doing nothing, but I'm not actually sure what to do with myself. All my friends are at work, and the ones that aren't are snorting coke of buxom ladies chests and getting up at 4pm. Bastards. My day today, for example, is structured around getting my car looked at and going to the gym. That is no way to live your life.

I got chased by two dogs recently! Wow! I should tell you about that! There's always some story about a dog getting into the playground. There are poems about such events. Well, I got chased by two dogs that got into the playground. I decided that, as I'm a teacher, I could use my teachery ways to shoo the dogs away in an orderly fashion. That didn't happen. I approached the horrible beasts and they charged right for me. Teeth and everything. I obviously legged it, to the fear and horror of the school children. Four children needed to be calmed down inside, one child had to have her inhaler. Someone said; 'Ooooh you shouldn't run from a dog. You should've stood your ground'. Fuck off, you dottery old menstruating teaching fuck.

I haven't read the dearne valley weekender for a while. In fact, I haven't even seen it in a while. Perhaps they read my blog and decided not to give me a free copy. Probably not.

I've nothing more to say. I didn't have anything to say anyway. In fact, I wanted to waste your time like people waste mine (not that I've got anything more productive to be doing). I don't care for what I've written, nor do I care if it is read. Blogs are a bit pointless really. People see these things as a great way to share there knowledge with the rest of the world. It makes people feel special. As if what they are saying has never been said before and now they have the chance to share it with the world. The reality is, nobody gives a shit and it's just more clutter that we're spreading all over the world, just through wires and that.

So, don't read this blog, don't link your facebook to your twitter and don't spend your life telling me what your doing on the popular internet medium of the time. Enjoy the moments your in rather than spend half of the moment writing blogs and twittering the fuck out of the moment until the moment has gone.

Wow!

Dearne Valley Weekender

Hello! Been a while, hasn't it. 2009 now. I love to read. Love it. Every weekend, when I visit my girlfriend's house, I like to sit on her toilet and read the Dearne Valley Weekender. A marvellous rag, it really is. One week the headline ran 'Man snaps babies back'. I didn't like that story. However, the very next week they ran;

The dog in question had a birthday! Wow! Silly cow, Claire Sherratt took the little bugger to a £200 a night hotel! What did she expect the dog to do? 'Very good choice this Claire, I knew you had something planned'. Maybe they got really drunk courtesy of the mini bar, ended up on the bed together, she touched his little lipstick...Why did that stupid woman waste £200 on a hotel for her dog. Depressing.

Surely there are better stories to run as your main piece. 50,371 homes received the paper that week, for free, some people paid 10p for it. Waste of time.

Same issue, a few pages in. 'Neil knows his onions'. Does he? Good for Neil. What a piss poor headline. Neil is a twat. That's what I would have run with. His onions don't even look that big. Even though they've put the onions at the front of the picture, they still don't look impressive. Some people have testicles bigger than Neil's onions. Looking at Neil's face, I think he's a little bemused as to why he and his onions are causing such a stir. I love a massive marrow. Huge tomatoes, go on then. Giant sunflowers, I'll have a look. Onions you can buy from tesco, I'm alright thanks.

I took this picture on my new phone. The quality is crap, as the camera is. I don't care for a camera on a phone. However, this is possibly the best bit of investigative journalism I have ever read.  A pan fire. One of the worst kinds of fires to have in the home. Children die. Dad's die. Cat's die. Homes and lives ruined. 'The incident resulted in a small amount of fire damage to the pan'. Oh, that's alright then. I've damaged pans before. My sister once used the scourer on my Dad's new pans. Scratched them to buggery. She got a right telling off. Did the Dearne Valley Weekender call? Did they shitters like.

I've nearly finished. You join me at the 'Pub & Club Scene' section. I've probably finished my poop by now. I'm just staying here for the read now. The club scene up North used to be a thing of beauty. Old folk, of a Friday night, would go to the local working men's club and see Tina Turner getting her fanny out, or whatever. These days, it's shit. Gadies and Lentleman, please welcome on stage...Boyzaloud! Like Boyzone meets Girlsaloud. They look Irish. Green fields in the background give that away.

Two out of Three. What does that mean? I guess the middle one is the worst. Operatic gothic space rock, I imagine. I used to work as a barman in a working men's club. Wheatley WMC, to be exact. It was full of old people buying pints of best, calling everyone 'love' and 'duck'. They don't want to see Two out of Three on a Friday. Nobody does.

I'm not going to spend long on the write up for these guys. He's not wearing a shirt and she is minging. The thing that caught my eye was 'Introducing from London...' I didn't catch their name. I stopped there. Do they expect us backward Northerners to read it and cream with excitement. 'Oooooh they've sent a band from that their London'. Give a toss. I hope they crash on the way up. Put a shirt on, it's winter.

Watched Freaky Eaters whilst I ate my tea. I had three turkey drummers, chips and vegetables. Washed it down with a quarter of a family apple pie and custard. I should be fat, but I'm really not. Anyways, I enjoy Freaky Eaters. It's people who've got really bad diets and for some reason only eat cheese or crisps or whatever. They have to try different foods and usually vomit at the thought of it. I love those ones. I hate the ones where they try everything straight away and say how much they love it and how they've missed out. They should, at least, have a little sick. I'd stop filming at that point and tell them they'd wasted our time.

Right, that's your lot. I doubt you read this far, I doubt I care. 

Much love

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