Catch up post

The last couple of days have been quite interesting blog? Want to hear about them? It might be quite long. No? Oh well, scroll down to the end of the blog and look at the pic of my arse and then leave.

Not wishing to start up a theme in my blog posts, but my first point on the agenda is poo. I'm getting the poo in early because it give me plenty of oppurtunity for some creative writing by inserting as many poo puns as possible. Did you know I'm on a graphic design degree of sorts? No I never talk about it, I'm not quite sure why not, maybe there's just not much comedy to be extracted from it. Anyway as part of the design degree of sorts I and someone else was selected (guess I must be pleasing some people of the graphic desing degree of sorts) to do some design work for the Royal Society (which apparently is a big deal, but I'm quite niave of science, and don't really understand science, that's what happens when you have a science teacher of dad). One of the features of the display will be a gut model, which we foolish agreed to be shown, I not quite realising it was 4 valves passing poo (real poo) around through pipes simulating the colon. Apparently at the exhibtion the real thing will only have brown coloured liquid, probably for the best, poo smells folks. Geh! Poo!

I entered the bowles of London (thanks Dan) last night to watch the Mitchell and Webb comdians (who do have some shit on the C.V. people) with their cohorts to record another part of their quite good radio sketch show. It was solid comedy stuff as usual, all the strongest material was on the first night and sadly the quality of the material may have declined a little (Geh!). The heat in studio certainly didn't assist my comedy enjoyment factor. Blasted heat. But I enjoyed seeing the comedy with the Cheryl and Dan and their respective cohorts. The comedy was certainly not of the quality where I can poo puns, but the shit storm on Oxford Street was a bit annoying when walking down it. And I was annoyed in the bowles of me on the bowles of London (Oxford Street) when I couldn't find any good shitting points, I'm not paying to shit, and the one in Virgin was closed, and I just can't work out how the fuck to use those McDonalds taps on Oxford Street. Don't worry, my hands got quite the thorough clean after I had seen the gut model. I'm so sorry that I've now got the delussion in my blog posts that you wanted to hear of my pooing woes.

On Thursday night I might have well shat on the stage at karaoke and would have got a more welcome reception. "But Richard hasn't heard you sing" was enough encouragement I needed to do Karaoke. I decided it would be fucking hilarious to do Avril Lavigne's Sk8er Boi (I almost wrote Sk8er Boil, now imagine the songs, boiling fresh skaters!). I got booed during it, and as not a regular karoke singer I often forget I can't hold a tune, admitedly I was egging on some of the booing, but apparently there was cheering at the end (that I'd finished) and people were singing along to it (why weren't they singing louder over my voice eh?). Video footage may exist of this haunting rendition, my friend's phone was definetly pointed at the stage, and I never quite got confirmation he did record it). No one would want such a video on YouTube anyway. Would hurt their ears.

And now as promised, the photo of my arse, I could explain the context to the photo, but why bother. Poo comes out my arse folks!