...this is her majesty, can you hear me?
Well, we now have a true transatlantic Blog. Celebrate accordingly. I'm back at my folks in the Toon, and spent last night watching Newcastle's glorious UEFA cup quarter-final, first leg draw with the Dutch national champions PSV Eindhoven. Live. With a Stella Artois in my hand. And a smile. Yet a sadness in my heart.
I saw a nice job on line today and applied, but it's good Friday so won't here much. I also bought a suit for my interview on the 19th and even if I say so myself I look quite the part...of the workshy fop.
I'm keeping it real for you by meeting with my ex tomorrow morning, regulalry emailing that blondey from C-Bus (Katie O'Beefe's matey) and going out to 'The Gold Medal' with Bodja tomorrow night. I haven't ventured into the the thronging crowds of downtoon yet to sniff on some beef flaps, but from what I've seen around suburbia it's only rated as fair-to-middle. I did spy one slice of upper crust poon that I shot a cheeky smile at, she returned it too, but after the images of lady chatterly's lover being bent over the fence by the diamond-in-the-rough groundsmen flowed from her mind she never looked again. bitch. I'd have ragged, bagged and shagged her though. like.
Okay. Get thinking on the Euro-Trash. and who said I was never coming to the Hog roast. Get uncle Paul working on clearing a heli-pad.