Terror at the Hands of The Tea-less Handyman...

I had a visitor today, who was the most odd looking man I've seen in a very very long time. A handy man. A handy man called Dirk.

I think Dirk is a serial killer, or potentially a serial killer.....

And the BAFTA goes to .........

Grrr I can't sleep... It's midnight and the land of nod just will not embrace me and so I find myself sat here, writing random shit drinking tea, dunking Ginger Nuts and contemplating the shopping spree that I have been roped into going to with Michelle tomorrow morning... for wedding shit.

I'm not a huge fan of weddings, to be honest I find them kinda boring.. until the reception starts and everyone gets mullered and all wait with baited breath to see just who will either a) make a prick of themselves and fall ass over tit on the dancefloor, b) be brave enough to cop a feel of ol' Aunty Janet who's better known for her army interrogation and torture expertise or c) who has a domestic... Nothing like a good ol' domestic at a wedding, there's always one!!

Bringing up Psycho 1 & 2

I wouldn't say that I was 'destined' to be a mom, infact, when I decided that I wanted a baby (some 10 years ago now) I was in Asda doing my grocery shopping cooing over a pretty ugly baby in a pushchair. I figured hey, one more mini me in this world wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Strange decision to make, this having a baby shit, particularly since I hate kids. But nonetheless, I got up the duff, bun in the oven and had a shotgun wedding because we wanted to do it all properly. Man oh man, did I think I knew EVERYTHING back then. Ante-Natal classes? Fuck no, I don't need to learn how to fuckin breathe, I do that shit everyday, just tell me what God damn drugs I can get...