Yes, it’s another bloody New Year.
As usual. we managed to avoid all the hype and bullshit by going to bed at 9 o’clock. After all, there was fuck all to watch on the TV apart from Jools bloody Holland’s annual tripefest that was recorded in October. I had great hopes for last year as he had Wilco Johnson on and was taking bets on whether he’d still be alive by the time it was broadcast. I was torn between wanting him to do well and watching the frantic recut of the programme…
So – New Year, new me? Well, what do you think? I gave up resolutions years ago when I realised that when you’re perfect then you don’t need to improve. So I’m not stopping drinking, swearing or spitting and I’m not joining a gym. It’s a waste of time as it will all be forgotten by February.
To me the New Year is just the same old shit with a different number and I fail to see why this one should be any different.
You might think I’m being a miserable old bastard, but I call it realism. Once you realise shit will happen regardless, at least you can stop worrying about it…
Insult me directly by eMail
Dioclese 
M- I have transmogrified into a god, overnight. I am a jealous god, full of whim and caprice. To mollify your god you must sacrifice a fatted calf immediately and post the image on 'Arsebook' for my perusal and stultification. Lack of compliance will result in a plague of schistosomes on your house until the nth generation…..
Still trying to work out what a dullard is..
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