Last week. I was laying in bed drunk, with Mrs Wing, watching TV, a bottle of prosseco to the good. I kind of move my heel in the direction of my arse, then flick my leg straight. (because it sometimes needs cracking like you would a knuckle). There’s this ungodly crunching noise and I can feel a bang that I presume…
Donald Trump meets Game Of Thrones in video edit extravaganza.
Four Hours. Four hours spent writing a long and lengthy list. Laboriously checking and cross checking figures, arranging numbers in boxes and writing salient back covering words, should I ever need to bail myself out of the shit. four hours of life I will never recover. Four hours of missed Gold Rush Alaska episodes…
This morning I called into look at some work for a proposed car repair shop, on an industrial unit based on a farm. During the process we walked through the abattoir, had there been any animals in there, I’m not sure I could have overcome the urge to throw open every gate.
Every now and again something grabs me from left field. This is so London, so now. Not for the younger ears. Think rap meets garage.
It maybe that Mrs Wing now beats me consistently at Mario Kart on the DS’s we’ve bought for the wingettes this year. And thought of handing them over on Christmas day might be the spoonful of sugar, to the bitter pill I’ve been forced to swallow. Mainly it’s the 5 straight days without work. Though Christmas can never…
Are you an Empathiser, Systemiser, or balanced?
The sun is not yet over the yard arm and here’s what’s happened already.
Is it just me or do you ever have those weeks where home is somewhere you call into to change socks? Like the spaceship ‘work’ is actually just orbiting existence and you’re merely a passenger glancing out of the porthole. Whilst everyone around you goes home at a normal hour for tea and buttered scones like normal…
It’s a sad indictment on my life that my favourite podcasts mainly involve listening to two friends having a conversation, while I listen alone. Anyway please feel free to peruse the full ‘library of sadness’ for suggestions and include your own.
Survey website Youguv reveals some startling analysis. Other weird research can be found here.
Vaguely relevant music choices for the forth coming début musical extravaganza. Written in silliness .
It’s nigh 11, and after 45mins into the great dishwasher repair job. I can say in my professional opinion it’s completely fucked. House Lwing is descending back into the dark ages. We’re all doomed. Unless a magician turns up I’m going to drink myself into a coma. Good morro.
Yesterday I clicked on a link titled ,“5 reasons why you aren’t losing weight”. Today the ground-floor of my place of work smells like wet dog and the first-floor smells of cat poop. Tomorrow, who knows I may well be the the ruler of the queen’s navy.
Pronounced “dronk-ver-drekt”. Tastes bitter, smells like world rugby cup defeat.
It’s been a little while, a little while longer than I meant it to be. I heard this recently and wanted to share. What’s tickling your ear holes clashtalk?
I mean mostly Vice is all, “drugs are for douchebags, the cool kids mainline cat piss”. Or “Vice goes under cover in the gaping orifice that is our collective, highly strung, fucking cool ego”. Anyway I digress. Here’s this thing about Bitcoin which holds the veneer of interest but signifies I no longer understand…
Hey, how are ya? Work has been both the bane and overwhelming driving force of my recent absence. But I’m arse deep in Prosecco, so I’ll stumble in like it was only yesterday and ramble on..
I’m not a fan of the monarchy, much less Gerry Adams. Whose words I heard spoken by the voice of an actor when I was a kid, as they weren’t allowed to be broadcast on tv. The IRA were responsible for murdering Lord Louis Mountbatten , Charles’s uncle in 1979. Adams was a part of the IRA leadership in 1970’s. There may…
My Dearest Clashtalk. While applying my nose to the grindstone leaves less time than I'd desire for Internet tomfoolery, I could not in good conscience forgo the opportunity to share this.