Tag Archives: 2012

All I wanted was chicken, potatoes and vegetables

Well it turns out 2012 is a piece of shit already, possibly the worst year that’s ever happened. I’m not overreacting nor am I exaggerating. It’s been nothing but utter shit from start to now, and I’m not happy with it. Sit comfortably and read on. Or don’t, I don’t give too much of a fuck if you’re sat on the gosh darned Iron Throne or if you can’t actually read.

Basically, I awoke around 9am feeling as if I’d been shot/a pig had shat on my brain/I was suffering the early stages of Sudden Onset Death – it was to be expected, but it was still a bit shit and set 2012 off badly (I’m not counting early morning-to-5am where I was having fun).

But it didn’t stop there, oh no. No, see I wanted to go out of the house – crazy, I know – and buy me some food to consume. TO PUT IN MY MOUTH. I was all set to buy chicken, potatoes and vegetables – yeah, I’m crazy like that – and cook the chicken, mash the potatoes and do something with the veg. Then I was to put it on a plate, cut it into smaller pieces using a knife (with a stabilising action provided by something known as a ‘fork’) and consume it.

It was going to be great.

But, on arriving at my first-choice destination of Waitrose I was met by a confusing sight: it was closed. I turned and walked the short distance to Lidl to find the very same: a shop that wasn’t open. New Year’s Day has ruined my plans by being one of those shitty days where things are closed and people are dickheads who don’t want to work to provide me with chicken, potatoes and vegetables.


But you know what was open? You know what did provide me with some hope for humanity? The 99p shop. Yes, the shop that is a whole penny cheaper than Poundland. So my dinner of chicken, potatoes and vegetables has been modified slightly to what I could get from the 99p shop: instant ramen and Wheat Crunchies.

Yeah, 2012 is going to be great.

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2011: THE YEAR IN REVIEW (no score, because I’m not even jokingly giving it 7/10)

Last day of 2011, so time to do some form of retrospective look back thing about how Awesome To The Max it’s all been.

Except it hasn’t. It’s been shit. There have been good parts, but generally speaking they’ve been massively outweighed by the seemingly endless, unforgiving, unrelenting wave of putrid shite that has aimed itself directly at my face (and gone up my nose a bit).

Sure, I went to Summerslam again and went to Hooters in Hollywood; I went to Tokyo and didn’t eat too much freak bastard food (and had a lot of canned cold coffee); I had Good Times at Groezrock and sat next to Milo from Descendents (when I still had my Milo Descendents glasses); Amsterdam was great, if a little hazy; some other stuff probably happened; SUIT UP; losing three stone helped me wheeze less.

But the bad points, which were bad so I don’t want to list them, pissed me off far more than the good points lifted me. From being dumped at the start of the year it seemed to be downcockinghill, somehow, from there. And try as I might to fix it, I’m still fucking broke – and it’s mainly my fault, which makes it even more annoying. Yeah, and I can’t even think how to put other issues through the year into polite, non-judgemental, still-respecting-privacy of others terms. So I won’t.

But hey, it’s a new year tomorrow. New year, new start and all that.

I don’t really get people segmenting their thoughts, hopes and dreams up into different years. Just because one date says 2011 after it and 2012 the next day doesn’t mean it’s a different world. It’s still the same. The same mistakes will be made, the same people will piss you off, the same shit will happen, the same routines will carry on. Just because it’s a different year doesn’t mean anything is actually different.

Still, I’m willing to play the game and have a cut-off point of midnight tonight. Let’s start afresh 2012. Do something different. Be a better person. Buy a gun. Shoot some public places up. Get arrested for making jokes on your blog. Be Spartacus.

But maybe 2011 will be saved – maybe this evening someone will give me a billion pounds, or tell me everyone I hate is dead, or tell me I’m finally going to get paid loads of money to sit at home in my pants playing and then writing about playing all the games I haven’t played yet – old and new. A man can dream.

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