I've just read the last entry. BeJaysus I must've been drunk. Well, I actually KNOW that I was was drunk but you know what I mean. Why in the name of All That is Holy would I sit there surrounded by empty Scrumpy Jack cans, a tub of king prawns from Macro, and a copy of Playboy the Vera Duckworth edition, making up rather tedious jokes about Cluedo? Granted, in this state there was certainly not going to be any ground-breaking discussion on the field identification of first winter Empidonax flycatchers or an open paper on the merits of fitting wheels to a Swan. No way. But surely I can come up with something a little better? As this is the first sober post ever written on Q@Spurn I'll tell you what I'll do from now on. I'll simply write utter shite whilst absolutely BOLLOCKSED on strong cider and add random childish jokes, then a few days later come on berating the lack of substance and general standard in the previous post. Hey Presto, two irrelevant posts from absolutely no background information whatsoever thus padding out the blog!
Being sober, I'm even using proper words like 'granted', 'thus' and 'melancholy' although I haven't used that one yet but I'm sure I will somewhere.
When I write 'thus' predictive text gives me these options: Tits, tits, and thus. Not a bad choice. Not bad at all.
I'll be back sometime and properly try and tell you something about my birding trips. Melancholy, I just can't bring myself to. I just can't. I'm sorry.
Life is but a melancholy flower. I'm off now to put Slade on the stereogram and eat pork pie. And it's the only time of year when ANYBODY actually eats red fucking cabbage. And I fucking love red cabbage.