Not easy, the life of the rebel skater’s dog, three hours after his master’s arrest.
At least, they don’t make me wear my poo tied in a bag around my neck in the Mistake Factory.
Unfortunately no boredom in store for me at the Mistake Factory this morning.
It was full on 100 meter dash by decapitated galliformes.
I could have done with a bit of mindless copying and pasting, gentle boredom and soporific inaction…
When Darren invented camoball, he was pretty sure that he would rapidly become a millionaire.
But as the sales failed to materialise, he soon lost momentum.
He hit a wall.
A day so packed full of nothingness that it felt like it was bursting at the seams.
They like their game of domino before heading upstairs for the ablutions/pyjamas/night-time read ritual.
This photo is blurred.
You try and hold a DSLR with your left hand to take a shot of your damaged right thumbnail before the bastard thing grows back… At least I don’t wince in pain any longer when I put my hand in my money.
Hold on. I still do. But only when it involves extracting money from it.
The Irish Rail unions have successfully managed to derail plans by the company to introduce Dart services every 10 minutes at peak time.
At least, in a world otherwise choked by political correctness, it is good to know that the Dart drivers could not give a rat’s arse about the user’s experience. They are perfectly transparent and unapologetic about it.
Good on them.
Viva la revolucion brothers (and sister)
May you all come back in your next life as sheep piled up in a lorry on a transcontinental journey to the abattoir.