So what have I been doing these past few weeks?
Well, I had a lovely trip to Cornwall at the end of September, Ongey and Paul were there. I wont go into mega detail, but one thing that amused me is how certain people percieve themselves. Or rather, how I percieve them to percieve themselves, which may be a figment of my rampant imagination.
So we go into one of those hippy / mystical / witch shops. You know the ones, they sell crystals for 5 quid which will grow back your severed leg and the whole place stinks of patchooli. They sell all sorts of otherwise useless stuff, like a 15 inch wide candle holder shaped like a dragon. Or some sort of glass orb on a mount, so that when you squeeze it, it recites Lady of Shallot by Alfred Lord Tennyson in a serious deep voice whilst swirling some pink gassy shit inside the glass of the orb.
I only spend a few minutes in there, as whenever I go into a shop, any shop, I suddenly well up with guilt that people may see me as a shoplifter. I don't know why, I've never stolen anything from a shop in my life, but I get a complex. Maybe its because deep down I am a shoplifter, and I am guilty for crimes I am yet to commit. But I get paranoid and leave and stand outside.
It was enough time to size up the guy running the shop. Clearly he'd gone to a lot of trouble to come across as some sort of "warlock" or "wizard", but in a sort of contemporary take on the subject. He didn't wear a robe and a floppy felt wide brimmed hat, or anything like that, and he didn't have a beard.
He was about 50 odd, of average height, with a middle aged spread. He had a crisp white shirt, tucked into black jeans, which showed off his fine gut. He had a belt with a big buckle and some sort of Celtic design on it. A black leather waistcoat and winkle picker boots. His hair was also immaculate, tightly curled and of a shoulder length.
Now clearly he thought he was a wizard, I thought he looked like the lead singer of Black Lace. Doo Doo Dooooo lets all do the Conga.
Maybe he was the singer and this shop was his retirement project? It amused me in anycase.
Part II -
Just got back from my good friend Des' stag do in Killarney in the west of Ireland. The guinness is lovely, the scenery is gorgeous, but a night on the town was terrifying. I'd never thought I'd say this, but Stevenage is quite classy in comparison.
So anyway, blue midgets. Apparantley you can hire a midget painted blue for a stag weekend. They handcuff the midget to the stag and you are inseperable for the whole weekend, including having to share a bed (you are handcuffed after all). I guess you can dangle him out of the window if you want some privacy.
The charge 500 quid. i don't know if it's true or not as they'd "run out of midgets" for Des, but we discussed how wrong it would be if you had to take a crap with the midget in the cubicle with you. And then I thought there was only one thing worse than that, if the midget wanted to have a crap and your hand was cuffed to his wiping hand.
Have you ever seen a smurf shit? Nows your chance.