Blind dead, sad and stupid after the death of cupid, harrow. Follow the furrow, chasing the fucking ploughlads out of the field. Wielding a gun, son, threatening to shoot everyone. No nose, no eyes, no mouth, no more. MORE! Had a crisis last weekend, in case you couldn’t tell.
In brief, I collapsed in the pub in the early hours of Saturday morning. Woke up at 7a.m. and didn’t know who I was or what I was or where I was and I’d pissed the bed. Felt drugged, felt like I’d been spiked, Steve and the Geez had to help me upstairs and put me in one of the guest rooms. Turns out someone was buying me drinks and making me drink quick (I drink at my own pace, learned to, remember the days of me swilling ’em down and doing the collapse calypso) in a stupid ‘I can drink more than you game’.… Read more