Well I done these for this thread, but thought as the mentor wanted a blog, I'd kill two birds with one stone. Fancy a photo tour around my bedroom? Of course you don't, but for those who do, why not have a nosy around and make remarks about some of the contents, oh go on.
Forgive some of the slightly clunkly shitty captions, I tried to do some witty ones!
Or at the very least, some hat modeling work. 1 Silly hat, 3 different facial expressions.
Silly hat! Isn't it fun, doesn't it look fun! FUN! Wacky! FUN!
One silly hat, or is that one sexy hat? You judge for yourself. Phwaoarrrr. Hat.
1 silly hat, or is that 1 very upsetting deeply depressing hat? Waaaa!
Contact me for all your hat wearing needs, I don't have an agent, so there'll be no negotiation of wage, I'll take what ever money you force into my hand! You could even pay me in skittles.
Bloody coursework on my pretty much mostly coursework degree is just getting me down, and forunatly my MacBook's built in camera is there to capture this feeling of Meh. It's also there to capture my new muscle.
Look at that muscle (singular).
Have you taken any good photos on your camera phone recently (say today?), well in answer to that question, yes, yes I have, two infact, care to have a look.
It's a duck darth vader! Genius, if it weren't for the fact it costs £7.50 for just a standard duck toy painted and slightly reshaped to look like the dark lord of the sith, I would so buy it.
This evening for my tea I decided to try some magic, some fried chicken from my favourite take away in Reading town. A Take away so lovely, and so frequented by me that the waiter (it's a classy restaurant, let's call the man's profession what it is) recognised me and called me mate! I had some fried chicken, and was most suprised to read the box and find out I was tasting magic. Did I taste any magic? Alas not, unless friendship with a fast food provider is magic, in that case, then yes.
Although I'm pretty sure Vrrmvrrw (meaning for a car to go like really really fast) is a verb, if only I had an extra R.
I saw an infruiating example of how New Labour (not the be confused with Labour) has furthered it's bloody nanny state.
Of course people should keep off another man's groin, it's just good manners, I don't expect someone to walk on my groin, and I don't go walking across another man's groin. It's rude, and it would hurt. Squashing bollocks, not my idea of a laugh.
(Of course anyone with a basic costal errosion knowledge will point out that groynes are rigid hydraulic structure built to interrupt the flow of water and sediment and not a man's tackle).
And I the prolonger blogger (that'll be the name of my third incarnation of a blog) want to share with you how my life got flipped, turned upside down, and Id like to take a minute just sit right there, Ill show you why owning camera phone has changed my life and how by possesing such technology I've been able to paint words via pixels via photography. Fox Talbot would be proud (He invented photography, love him.. LOVE HIM). So relax and enjoy the photography.
A photo of a lake at Wakehurst Place Gardens, I wanted to take a photo of the Gardens, of some nice looking house building mansion summat which had morris dancing (with ladies... cool) infront of it, some flowers, path way, the cafe shop, but because of the tempremental nautre of photography (damm you Fox Talbot!) and the fact my new phone seems to have a personality of its own and saying to me, no, you shit, you shall not take a photo of these pretty things, instead, the camera only let me take a photo of some water. But what beautiful water.
In a way, it might of been for the best, because this photo captures the idea that this lovely garden is surrounded and locked in by residental areas, much like the water is locked into the photo. Its confined, and sadly you can confine nature, which is sad, expressed fully by the morbid lighting the camera brought. Also is it me or is there a large cat reflected in the pond?
Here is the fastway bus in Crawley, a bus that is infact, so fast I failed to caputre all of it in the photograph. But look at the bored looking passengers in the bus? Planes are fast, passengers get entertained on there, but on a bus, no such luck, which is a shame, infact where air crew are expected to be lovely and friendly, bus drivers get away with being miserable shits, which sadly is a crying shame. So whilst this fastway might be fast, the passengers are sat their unamused, give them a film to watch for fucks sake! Or sell them some low price fags or kylie perfume or something tacky.
This photo shows that Burger King, with its reputation being slightly better than McDonalds, makes this student 'I'd eat garbage' scum feel slightly better than some scummy members of the population. I have my eyes closed as I don't want to look down on my subjects, though loyal they are.
This is my pleasure toy, and boy, does it pleasure me. Enough said.
I could instead of spouting bollocks on my Fox Talbot photography beauties just make a story with the four photos such as something like this;
A large cat was angry with me as I pissed into the lake, so I fleed on the fastway bus, hoping this would speed me away from the large cat. To Burger King was my plan, and I collected the urine of a worker there to plant at the scene (in a burger king cup), so I could blame someone at Burger King. The large cat believed my story and brought me a Dalek as way of apologies for accusing me of urinating in a pond.
Readers are welcome to think up a better story.
WARNING: If you don't like looking at photographs, might I recommend you skip this blog.
Today in the means of being productive I decided to go on a country walk (or cuntry walk if we want to be crude), down a stretch of public bridleway that I hold most dear to me, over four years of intense schooling in which I gained my qualifications (like GCSE German) this bridleway would be become very dear to my heart, there were good times (the sun), there were bad times (the rain), there were confusing time (the hail), but I came to know this public bridleway as my second brother (after the cat). Join me with your hearts open to embrace the beauty of the Worth Way public bridleway in the beautiful West Side Sussex. 
Here is the duck pond full of crap. This one time back when I were lad before I gained me qualifications (like GCSE German) I fell in there, well I say one time, it might have been more than once. Needless to say from looking at the contents of the pond I must have smelt fucking horrible after my dips in there. But back in those days the kids would praise you for smelling like toxic waste. It was like a beauty scar some might say.
How some kid gets world wide media coverage for going missing and this Harris Hawk going missing get's no publicity I'll never know. I would love to inform you I found the Harris hawk on my travels, but alas sadly not, I don't really know much of Harris Hawks work unlike his brother Chesney, I know all about his work (and I mean work, that one hit wonder scum boat).
Here are some railway sleepers, well I assume they are, to be honest I wouldn't really know what railway sleepers looked like if I got struck in the face by one (but if they are what I am assuming they look like in the photo, than face sleeper combination probably equals quite a bang. Ouch. They'd fucking knock out my eyes). There used to be a railway line down here didn't you know? Until the evil Dr. Beeching closed it down. And thats why the residants of Sussex curse Dr. Beeching, and you just know that all the evil kids out there in Sussex have been named Beeching in line with popular conception that Dr. Beeching was sent here by the devil. 
Oh shit, how did that get in there, no one is supposed to know of my horse shit fascination. But now its out in the open, I guess I must explain the hardships I had when I were a lad just doing your qualifications (like GCSE German) and the kids would think you were uncool if you didn't cycle in the horse shit. Like the toxic waste daring, kids became more hardcore the older they got.
Here is a bridge, I would tell you the story of when the Bridge collapsed and us teenagers rebuilt it only on enthusiasm and a desire to help the local community, but I remember that story isn't believable in the slightest, and I can't think of a decent punchline. So let's just all salute the Bridge. All hail the bridge.
And this is where our cuntry walk time must end, I hope you've enjoyed the walk, felt you were there and want to embrace this public bridleway, but not too much, there's horse shit on there, quite a bit actually, really smelly stuff. Goodbye and thank you.
Dan did this Empire magazine based MeMe, I read Empire magazine, every month, why did I not think to do a similar thing sooner, because I'm an incompotent MeMe generator, unless anyone wants me to make one, then I'd raise to the challenge and produce shit. Anyway, here's me answers.
1) What's your idea of "heaven on Earth"?
A World where my younger sister is happy to help when I ask, because I had a cat on lap and had movement restricted, if she'd happily walk from her room to mine to pass my remote to turn on my speakers to me because the remote was at the other end of my room and I couldn't disturb the cat. Instead she stole my remote. Heartbreak. That would be be heaven on earth if I had a sister who would help my lazy arse.
2) Were you a teenage rebel?
Oh yes, I rebelled against the system, parents would rather I went out socialisng but I stay inside, what a rebel.
3) Who is the best James Bond?
Not really bothered about those James Bonds, but the new one Daniel Craig David is pretty good. What I mean by that is he is good, I wouldn't know about the pretty, although he has big ears.
4) Who is the person you most despise?
The person who phoned my mobile this morning asking if I was Graham Cook. I've ranted about this in my facebook status already, but if there is one thing I enjoy more than ranting about miniscule things, that is ranting again and again about trivial matters. 9:45 AM I was phoned if that was Graham Cook, not it fucking wasn't, how dare you interupt my sleeping pattern. I just said no it wasn't, and they said thanks anyway. Thanks anyway? thanks for what? for dissapointing your serach for Graham Cook. How very dare they.
Another person would say I should have been out of bed by 9:45 AM anyway, well probably, but yeah but no but yeah but this whole thing happened where I worked a tweleve hour and half shift at work, but yeah I say work, most of the time I was say there doing shit all, you slag.
Graham Cook? What an outrage. I couldn't get back to sleep after that, I now hate Graham Cook. As well as the person who phoned, if they weren't a lady I might think they are Graham Cook. Graham Cook does things out of spite.
5) Have you ever had a supernatual experience?
Not yet, unless Graham Cook is going to haunt my dreams tonight, I have a feeling he might, I have said I hate him.
Here is an etching of a Graham Cook, not mine probably, he's probably dead this Graham Cook, so that would mean a supernatural experience may very well happen from this Graham Cook.
6) What do you want to have written on your tombstone?
Not Graham Cook.
7) What was the last film you walked out of?
I've not actually walked out of a film, only 2 films that I can remember I have walked out to go for a wizz, those films being Pearl Harbour and my second viewing of the Simpsons movie. I'd rather hold on for dear life than lose out on my penny paid for cineam trip. I bet Graham Cook walks out of all the film he sees, because he sets the bar far too high for any film he sees, apart from Transformers the movie, he enjoyed the subtext.
8) Do you do your own shopping?
Yes. How many men who are confused for Graham Cook can say that. Now I begin to think more and more about Graham Cook I might phone back the lady and ask if Graham Cook is there. That'll teach them. Mwa-Ha-Ha-Ha.
9) How much is a pint of milk?
Milk. I, like many Graham Cooks, don't by milk, I let others buy me milk for my own evil cereal purposes.
10) Do you use public transport?
Boy do I. I'm still currently going through my second I hate driving lessons period in my life so shall still rely on public transport.
11) Have you ever stolen from a hotel?
No, but I know someone who has his first name begins with a G, and his surname begins with a C. It's Graham Cook.
12) How do you behave when you are drunk?
Good by auquardness. Wahey! Vocal, and I make a tit of myself and say stupid things. The usual drunken stuff.
13) What's the worst film you've seen?
Pearl Harbour. I watched a few minutes of it a few weeks ago, reminded me what an insulting film it is. Don't let me detract from my Graham Cook rant by letting me rant about Pearl Harbour. The Team America soundtrack said it best when they said 'Pearl Harbor [sic] sucks'.
14) How far is too far?
Menitoning Graham Cook in every single answer to these questions, thats going too far.
15) Who was your favourite cartoon character as a kid?
Sadly my future Graham Cook cartoon series wasn't around when I was a kid, so it would be normal stuff like the ten o'clock news or summat.
16) If your life depended on it, would you eat human flesh?
I dunno, ask me when I'm living on the streets because Graham Cook has stolen every penny I have. He's worse than Stalin.
17) Can you swear in a foreign language?
Ja. I can say shit in German.
Tee Hee.
18) Have you lied during this?
Yes, I don't despise Graham Cook, he's probably a nice lad, I just was mildly irritated by being woken up this morning by a phone call, my fault for not turning off my mobile, I'm really moaning about nothing.
Now to end on a happy no mention of Graham Cook note, here's me and Mr.Blobby, goodbye.
And they call it Blobby love, well I guess they'll never know.
Clapham Junction is what I've been upto. Yawn another post where some weirdo proclaims his love for a train station. Big shitting deal. Move on. Well I made two 'Via Clapham Junction dream trips' this week. Thats the justification for the love. Lovification.
Woof, what a surname.
I say 'another post where some weirdo proclaims his love for a train station' like I'm not alone in a strong plutonic love for Clapham Junction.
Via Clapham Junction Dream Trip Number One.
I went down to Dorset (via Clapham Junction) for a camping trip in a friends garden, the camping in the garden didn't really agree with me, but I had fun, checking out the sites of Weymouth and Bournemouth (they have beaches biatches), seeing the simpsons movie again this time stone faced but not wanting to slag it off because everyone else seems to like it! I enjoyed busting some moves on a dance machine (Javine, my favourite), I enjoyed some confusion at having a suprise birthday party about 11 days early, so unclued was I, I just was an infuriating guest and not able to understand subtle hints for me to fuck off out of the room. Woe is me. And I got buried in sand in Bournemouth not once, but twice, here is a photo of me buried the first time. I'm a pretty mermaid!
I went on some ride that went upside down that made me question weather I liked rides like that, I thought as I could cope when rollercoasters went upside down sometimes I could cope with this ride that span upside down. I just closed my eyes half way through and clutched onto the metal bar for dear life.
Can you see the ginger hair flying in the pic? Spot the ginge, the books will be bigger than Where's wally. Love them books, good stories. And that was via Clapham Junction dream trip number one, now onto...
Via Clapham Junction Dream Trip Number Two.
I went to the final recording of That Mitchell and Webb Look Series 2 (Really? Have to wait till February for it to air on the telly? What an outrage!). I mostly just wanted to go so I could have my photo taken with the Dalek thats at the BBC, which I did.
I wanted to get a bit more intimate, but when the man told me not too touch it, I slightly held back my sexual urges for the dalek.
Still it looks like me and the Dalek were making out, so it's all good.
As for the comedy, it was funny, well most of it. The warm up man failed to generate any real wit, I'm not that fussy, but someone with enthusiasm wouldn't go a miss would it, not some guy with some 'ironic dark material' like Ricky Gervias Ironic racist material. Still Mitchells and Webbs, some good stuff, Dan's gone into enough detail for me not to repeat what he's said, or I could copy and paste what he has said. That's lazy, but I am a lazy blogger nowadays. Zombie Big Brother parody, not funny, Numberwang and parodies of other teevee shows, funny. And on the plus, I didn't need a wee during the show despite having three half litre bottles of coke at my disposal. It's all gravy. No, not coca-cola with Gravy, that wouldn't work. And I got to pass through Clapham Junction earning a tedious enough link for both of these blog details of these escapades. Wahey!
Now to try and teniously link my holiday to Portugal in a few days time with Clapham Junction, I might fail.
Portugues people have visited Clapham Junction, like me.
Well I aint blogged since the 29th of June, so no doubt you're after some kind of explanation, after all, as all mathematicans can tell you that is a 92 day long gap. Well Mathematicans and non-mathematicans I've been moooooving! From one student house to another, and spending time at new student house for a week to make sure everything is all gravy. It's not all quite gravy, the freezer door is quite keen of falling of the hinges, and my bed has a good old dent in it, but other than that, it's all good my friends, I'm back home in West Side Sussex, maxing out the bandwith on the parents intertune connection, but now I want to take a moment of your time (if you want, it's optional) to show you some photo arousements of my last week of house moving. Don't worry, there's only four photos.
Look it's my new room, bit smaller than last time, and left with a slightly girly touch to it (it had pink curtains and the smell of popery, but my man stench soon got rid of that, though I still love the pink curtains). The room looked a bit dire with white walls, but some good typographically spaced posters and it looks alright.
Look, after only four days of living in our new student house we already aquired a trolley. Well it was a hand-me-down from a friend who was moving out of the student area. And they are good snack holders at parties.
The living room with it's white walls was just looking depressing, so I moved over my art gallery from my old student house, and some hot shot (me) commissioned a frustrated artist (me) to draw a new picture, one of the new student living room. Enjoy, and maybe the gallery will grow and grow and I'll get my own art gallery. One can only hope.
But my week ended, and I decided I was bit bored of being in Reading without Interweb, so I came home. On the train, with a suitcase full of crap. My suitcase fucking broke, the handle snapped off half way during my half an hour walk to the train station. Rain started falling two thirds into my walk to the station. Bin men started talking to me at about the same point. "Are you going on holiday" "No, going home from uni" "You've quit uni?" "No, term has ended" A charming conversation transcribed for you.
Going through Clapham Junction (which is claimed to be the busiest railway station in Britain, and even in Europe according to Wikkipedia) from platform 4 to platform 13 wasn't fun lugging the suitcase. It frustrated me, and made me think next time, I should get the bus to the station, and not stuff the suitcase with so much crap, and not break the suitcase. Still I left a nice present for someone on their front garden, a broken handle, fucking annoying that the bin men were compost binmen. Although I'm convinced that Earley is the friendly part of Reading, whilst Clapham is one of the unfriendly parts of London. The photo above is of my broken handle on the train if you're interested. Wish I took a photo of my suitcase handle dumped on someone's lawn, but I didn't want to miss my train.
Was that worth a seven hundred and twenty seven day gap in blog posts? Probably not.
Student's aren't the most cleanest of creatures, although I do shower folks! It may take us a few weeks to empty a bin, such as our bathroom bin, which was full of loads and loads of loo rolls. I being the restless sort and the creative sort, started building a tower that stems from the bin one poo ago and have since progressed in continuing the building of this tower. It's going be a welcome present for the next tennats. Except my housemate has now decided to extend the loo roll tower so high it's now taller than me and intimidates me everytime I pee, and stops me from building it any higher.
Shame.
And by revising I mean taking part in a house BB gun knocking cans over competition, which came after the posing with the BB guns, and after the shoot the ginge in the arse competition had ended (admitedly I agreed to being shot in the arse, but that's not the point, not that I know what point I'm making). What a wasted afternoon.
...mostly I didn't find stuff of interest, just people's microwaveable dinners I had interupted mid rotation (I got chucked out of one person's house because I stopped their cup of beans mid microwaving), but today I found a fantastic tacky London souviner dress up set in my housemates microwave.
I don't think it's in anyway arogant of me to say I look extrodinarly dashing in the pic.
After a year and a week of not having a haircut, I finally got one yesterday, and because that Bert, Jemima, Cheryl and even Dan bloggers blogged about their haircuts, I feel I have to do the same.
Okay it's just a trim and not that exciting, but most imporantly I no longer get my hair in my mouth when eating me beans on toast, hooray!
