New Year

Happy New Year. I've a hangover banging in my head like Bobby Sands rumbling tummy. Bloody awful skinful after the New Years gig.

Due to a fire alarm at 1155 everyone had to evacuate except me and Martin (we decided on a suicide pact). Anyway someone had dropped half a Benson into the Tombola and it went up.

Noone saw the gig and Martin hopped behind the bar and liberated a bottle of Jagermister. It was like drinking piss from a dehydrated Satan. Martin started dancing with his knackers out. I chucked my ring all over the meat raffle. Best party ever.

Anyway. 2006. Must get more work. Must get a new agent (or one with two working eyes). And me and Martin Chuzzleclit should go to London. We'll see.