Right. Let's get the shit out of the way first. All I wanted to do was tie my shoelaces, I don't think that justifies being ridiculed. I got up early this morning to give Jerk a proper big walk so she'll be tired out for the rest of the day and I can get some work done without a wet nose being shoved in my eye every few seconds. All was going well when we chanced upon a small group of teenagers. I've become very paranoid of teenagers in the park recently due to a horrible and frightening experience about a month or so ago. They didn't attack me or abuse me (well, one called me a twat), it was worse than that; I embarrassed myself a little bit in front of them. That can't happen again. It was too traumatic. Then I noticed my shoelace was untied. Well spotted, Legge, you could have tripped on that, fallen, smashed your skull open, died and those teenagers would have laughed at you. I thought it best to tie it before a horrific little bit of embarrassment was once again experienced. So, I simply raised my leg and put my foot on the top of a fence to tie the lace securely and continue with the dog walk, unlaughed at. At least, I thought it was a fence. It wasn't. It was a gate. An unlocked gate. An unlocked gate that swung open as my foot leaned on it and I fell, Del-Boy like, right into a ridiculously deep cunt of a puddle. Boy, was my face red. Mainly due to me desperately scraping my face off so I could never be recognised again. It goes without saying that the youths found this hilarious. While lying in the muddy water (I did lie there just a bit too long, I mean, I didn't think I could fall any further so surely staying in the puddle was the safest place for me to be) listening to the cold, hollow sound of laughter, I did think it would have been nice if that skateboarding lady from last week skated by giving a sort of Nelson Muntz HA-HAA as she glided past my embarrassed, wet, muddy heap. I got up out of the puddle, sighed and continued with this shit, shit life.
Still, at least Dead Set was good. What a totally fantastic TV show. I think Zombies are my favourite bad-guys ever (or at least second to the Myrka). I love how the only agenda they have is to run like fuck and kill you. There's no plan B. It was such a tense, scary and utterly uncomfortable programme but what a shame about the very typical Charlie Brooker cheesey happy ending. He's such a hack. It was a great piece of social commentary, a great horror and, of course, it was very well written really. But now I'm watching a repeat of Ricki Lake on ITV 2 + 1 where everyone is laughing at a fat woman taking a laxative so, calm down everyone, TV is back on schedule.
Forgot to say that the Newcastle weekend was excellent. Especially thursday and saturday. Friday had a big stag-do in that I wasn't in the mood to control so calling them cunts was about all I could muster. There's a surprise. The sound guy walked out during the middle of the show on the friday night after having an argument with the owner of the venue. That was a very silly thing to do, I think. I mean the sound guy knew full well what a complete and utter cunt of a prick of a cunt that the owner of the Hyena is so even speaking to him was a huge mistake. I realise that I may never be booked by the Hyena ever again now (a shame as I love the club) but that doesn't change the fact that the owner is a cunt of a prick of a cunt. He once asked me to do another acts material onstage. That's terrible. I mean, I don't go up to him and tell him how to be a cunt. I have complete trust that he knows how to do it. The same courtesy next time please, sir?