I know, I know, three blog posts in one day! And what they lack in length and any kind of substance, I feel they more than make up for in my super special ingredient whose nature I’m not allowed to disclose at this point; but which I’m confident you’ve already noticed elevating the overall quality of your life. Yes that was a semi-colon and I will NOT apologise for using it there. Grammar nazis begone – I’ll use it how I damn well pleasey; my blog;;; mine;;;;;; mine;;;;;;;;;:!% mine:;/?^&$££$^*£; MINE.
Don’t worry though, this initial enthusiasm will wear off in approximately 120 seconds and you probably won’t hear from me again for another 6 months, when once again I’ll emerge from my malaise to float farts out into an empty sky, farts that no-one will smell nor care about; apart from that SAME grammar nazi who picked me up on the semi-colon fiasco above, now pontificating with me about my incorrect usage of “nor” just then.
This guy!? He’s bustin my balls.
Whaddam I gonna do wid dis guy?
WHADDAM I GONNA DO WID DIS GUY???
And in a way we all have our own grammar nazi don’t we. Nah … that’s just not gonna work. Sounded good in my head, sounds like squirrel vomit now.
I wonder if there really are ambassadors’ receptions though. Cos if there are, I suddenly feel overwhelmed with a terrible sadness that I’ve never been invited to one, and likely never will be. Pompous ambassador BASTARDS. Who do they think they are anyway? We should storm their embassies and liberate their luxury Rock Brothers confectionary treats into our sweet-deprived streets. This is probably how all revolutions start – with vapid dolts unwisely given public platforms, rabbiting on about iconic TV adverts and issuing ridiculous calls to action that get horribly misinterpreted.
I don’t even like Ferrero Rocher for fuck’s sake.