On this most sacred of all days for my mates and me, I like to walk away with some kind of souvenir every year. There's the lager handle from the Brown Hound, St Patrick's Day 1975; the actual (empty) handle of vodka, 1976; a lock of hair from the most beautiful redhead I've ever laid eyes on, 1974; etc ( Read more... )

Mundungus Harold Whoreloving Fletcher, it's the 26th of February.

I'm all yours!

New project: stop unwanted peoples' fucking bullshit whinging from showing up in my fucking book ( Read more... )

HI. COME OVER. DUNG JUST MADE THE BEST SANDWICH IN THE WORLD. HE IS SO GREAT. HE MELTED A BIT OF MY COUNTER TRYING TO LIGHT THE CANDLE, BUT IT'S OKAY. IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT SOUNDS. Counts, I meant counts. I ( Read more... )

I'm at my sister's house and covered in kids. I like how my weekends oscillate between thoroughly domesticated and smelling like a homeless person ( Read more... )

I'm at The Laughing Dingo with Marlene McKinnon right now, who's in the loo and then getting me another lager. I've been a bit of a voyeur on these things since the new year, talking mostly to people I know and avoiding those I don't. Few observations ( Read more... )