I have no phone. I have no laptop. I am bereft, adrift on an ocean of incommunicado, walking from room to room, clawing at my eyes and howling at the moon. Why? I wail, to the void above, Why?
This is balls of course. My phone is in for repair, so for the next ten days I am left with a clunky brick replacement phone so retro it is currently featuring in an art installation in Shoreditch in a pop-up fucking gallery built almost entirely of cassette tape and Timmy Mallet’s glasses. It does nothing except beep and ring, and when you consider that there are actual human beings living in such poverty they are fashioning plastic bottles into shoes and wearing the same outfit until it literally rots away then my complaint sounds like that of a deplorable squeaky twat doesn’t it? Still though. No laptop.
Wah, wah. Either way it means that I currently have no camera, so can’t update the blog with the things I’d like to; like the STUPIDLY ABSURD New Years Eve bargains I discovered when I took the Charity Shop Express to Cornwall. Woowoo! All aboard!! You’ll see, my friends.
Secondly I am going to take a picture of the one million pound house near us which is currently employing a slow motion slide two hundred and eighty feet into the sea below. It’s astounding, and I hope my phone can do it justice. Actually reading that back it sounds like some serious James Bond shit and I fear I may have oversold it in my enthusiasm. I literally jizzed for joy when I saw it the other day but thinking about it, it might not be that rad.
So there you go. Something to look forward to, ey? Pictures of me in clothes and a blurry snapshot of a wonky house on a cliff. Bloody marvellous.