"Like a sheep runs from the herd..."

Another stressful, emotional couple of weeks has rendered me with a near continuous headache for 6 days and an on-off cold that's draining and yet pathetic at the same time. Things are a lot quieter this week which is nice. A well needed chance to slow down and chill out. Work is of course as hectic as ever but is currently contained between the hours of 10 and 6 and not spilling over into my evenings for which I'm very grateful. Although saying that I am going to the Classic Rock Awards on Tuesday evening. Something tells me that Motorhead will be there picking up some Lifetime achievement award or some such thing. I'm a on table with my band The Answer. There's a champagne reception, a 4 course meal and an aftershow. Its also smart dress so I'll have to somehow drag my scruffy arse into some dress or another which I don't own and not only freeze all night but feel uncomfortable and weird. I have an enormous ability to make the smartest of clothes look like something orphan fucking Annie would wear. I ALWAYS spill stuff down my front like a spaz and my hair never stays where it should, my eye make-up falls off my eyes within an hour and travels south down my cheeks and I can't walk in heels so I waddle around like Tootsie. Fabulous I am not! I also have this uncanny knack of getting soo drunk that any inhibition that I may have once had just vanishes, evaporates. I'm bound to say something inappropriate to the wrong person. The Answer are a new band to us and we don't know the label/manager very well yet so cue humilation as I conveniently forget the boundaries set between new working companies and step way over any visible line. How do I know this? I do it all the time. My boss (who is worse than me at this stuff) actually said: "Oh no - they'll see us drunk. Well that will be the end of our working relationship!" God help us.
I will give a full account of my rock celebrity-studded night and if I come anywhere near Lemmy or anyone else in leather that might look like he was once, or indeed is still in a band, I'll take a picture.

So, I'm working on a couple of things for Cunts Corner. A website that's basically a ranting sound board for morally dubious people like myself. Here are a few ideas:

Clowns
Stupid, pointless, big nosed, floppy feeted, paedos who can stick their squeaking novelty bollocks up their cunting arses. Cunts.

People who tell unfunny jokes
Insecure, socially inept, boring conversation killers, who aren't funny no matter how hard they try. The real cunts are those who tell you jokes after saying how much you don't like jokes. What on fucking earth makes you think that you are any different to the rest of the fucking cunts that insist on forcing unfunny, inane bollocks into every conversation, you humourless and obviously slightly sad cunting individual.

Sue Barker and her stylist
Either blatently taking the piss or utterly blind. Either way stop polluting my TV screen with your mis-matching New Look-esque clothing ideas and cunt off. Sue - you can cunt off too for having no fucking clue that you look like a cunt.

Work in progress...