There just aren't enough hours in the day, I tell you.

Some warped, brain fuddling case of Winter blues has kept me out of here during the first couple of weeks of 2006. I have had better things to do than write about the better things I have to do. Like picking my nose, or chasing lazy-arsed students away from the parking place outside the front of my house,

No wonder we have an obesity problem in this country.

The students of Chester, at least, seem to resent the idea that they might have to walk anywhere. Neither do they appear to understand the basic maths of how many car parking spaces can go in front of a Victorian terraced house.

The answer is one... not the three saloon cars half the residents on my street try to cram in every week night, demonstrating some of the worst parking known to man.

He! he! he!

Biting the hand that feeds me.

Most students are good people. The ones who clutter up cities not giving a shit about the local populace who hang around during the summer making sure that their homes aren't turned into crack houses, and who stumble down Whipcord Lane every Monday night, fresh out of Beans, with traffic cones on their heads, singing Pussycat Dolls' songs [song] need a good slap.

If they weren't all giant P.E. students genetically modified by a childhood brought up on Sunny Delight and vitamin tablets, I'd give 'em a slap myself ;0)

Other than moaning about that minority of selfish and thoughtless students who allow me to tar the rest of them with my bigoted brush, I've been busy spending time with the family, brushing the cobwebs out of my novel [although, navel would be just as accurate], and fretting about an outside broadcast we're doing in Aberdare at the end of February.

More details very soon.

Went to the Liverpool Spurs game yesterday afternoon. Alonso and Riise had rubbish games; but this only bodes well for the Man U game coming up next Sunday. Alonso can't play that badly two games in a row. He's too good for that.

Apart from Kewell's goal, the most memorable thing about the afternoon [other than the two charming pensioners who come on our train and sit with us every time we go to the match] was the amount of dog shit that is smeared around the streets surrounding Anfield. I gagged all the way to the ground, and trod very carefully all the way back to our bus afterwards.

It's the Telfords Christmas do tomorrow night. We have our 'do' after Christmas because, frankly, it's impossible to get everyone out in the run-up to Christmas.

I will end up DJ'ing until 6am.

I will end up so drunk that I piss on my shoes.

I will narrowly miss getting punched, or involved in the annual staff punch-up.

I will bore Amy Cocking to tears.

I will wake my wife up when I get in at 6:24am 'trying to be quiet'.

So much to look forward to ;0) Back to the top of the page...