freedom costs money

Guests. Guests are a mixed bag aren't they. I have just spent the last two nights sleeping on the floor to permit an annual quota of guests to stay where I live, (in my own bed no less) which i'm not really complaining about as they're as alcoholic and northern as myself and always game for a laugh.

Does anyone else have a problem thinking up titles or is it just me. I have a folder of stuff with no titles that need them. Otherwise if I ever publish a volume of stuff its going to have to be called UNTITLED. Here's an extract, can you title it?

Behold, my first original thought for 2006;

"We are all students in the school of experience, where there are no teachers just companions."

Enjoy.

As it's Friday the 13th tomorow - apparently, so my time obsessed friends tell me - I got to thinking about luck. According to popular scandal/the press/my mother etc... tomorow is going to be an extreemly bad day for me. My horrorscope says im going to get hurt by a man doing a poor impersonation of edward scissor hands, sian whatsherface from Auntie BBC says i going to get wet and as for my mother - ever read Harry Potter? The scary fortune telling woman? You get the idea.

Calling all Yorkshire folk! Once again its panto season and if, like myself, you know a good thing when you see one, you will no doubt be making a pilgrimmage to see the great Berwick Kaler (and his marvelous dress sense!) at the York Theater Royal. If you haven't a clue who - or indeed what for that matter - I'm talking about, you obviously don't read the Gaurdian. Check out their top fifty things to do this x-mas, this panto is in it!

Does anybody else have a time of day they feel totally at ease in?
There is something I love about the night that I can't quite place.
I'm only just beggining to explore it...

Clothe me in the night,

Apologies for the length of this but I think deserves a little thought...

I stand before you (Im not really here but thats what your imaginations for isn't it.) genuinly worried that before too long Tony Blair is going to finish off what he started all those years ago: Genocide. Brittania is slowly being clubbed to death with political correctness.

In my head things tend to happen. They tend to happen in a random and/or exploding sort of fashion, often involving the little imp that takes refuge in there and likes to do a bit of meddling. In the course of taking/doing/recovering from things that further mess with this cataclysmicly delicate imbalance this sort of thing tends to happen; see what you think...

Ever noticed how evrybody likes Bon Jovi when there drunk, but will never admit to it when sober? I think this has got something to do with phantom limbs.

I have yet to meet somebody, even people as unmusical as myself, who does not, when properly stimulated, play air guitar. This got me thinking; Does everybody, regardless of musical ability, have a phantom third limb in the shape of an air guitar that is some extension of their musical ability?

Its stupid o'clock in the morning, I feel like death warmed up holidaying in some tropical location that's rather too warm for its own good - like the inside of an active volcano perhaps - and I'm heading for my second sleepless night on the trot. However I find that these are not the things that are irritating me the most right now.