The atmosphere had gone from Happy-Tequila-Sunrise to Get-The-Fuck-Outa-Here in no time. One moment Julie and I were smoking a doobie on the fake beach on the roof of our favourite pub, the Thirsty Camel, having a bit of a laugh and all that, when the next minute the lights downstairs suddenly flashed to life.

Granted he (the kinda in-law... it's a long story) has recently given-up smoking, which isn't easy, but why does he want to hit (or as he says: "kill") people who annoy him

Be warned. Gross over share follows.

I raised myself up onto my elbows and allowed the wave of accompanying nausea to recede. A full minute told me that the ache in my head was not about to follow suit.

He stepped into his apartment, or flat as his friends kept reminding him, and went for the fridge. Beer was necessary - always. Its not that he was an alcoholic, its just that he needed a drink at the end of his day.

The kids are crazy at the end of the term.

I finally managed to ... bump off that Ramon twat. The little fucker was tough; I’ll give him that much and not much more. He really was suffocating me – mentally I mean. Unfortunately, I have to give credit where credit is due, as the old cliché goes. The four shitty stories he self-published did help put me through medical school, even though I never quite made it to médico level.

Ever met someone who is so slick they seem, at first glance, to be a second hand car salesman? Shiny shoes, good suit, just so hair and American shiny-white-bracesfortenyears teeth? Then you twig on that actually this is the CEO of a big company and all your preconceptions and lack of desire to touch the hand have to go out the window? If they don't, maybe you won't get this job?

Jeanne shifted in her seat and felt for her handbag.

The Big Bang Theory. TV series. Funniest thing I have watched in decades. I have not actually gone out and bought it. Instead I have watched seasons 1 & 2 about three times from the evil download king.

So okay Mr Freeman, here's my belief structure all rolled out in one go (it is, of course, incomplete and flawed in this expansion, but not so in my mind. I am happy to discuss and extend as required. However, I think you will soon see that this blog is exactly as I said it was) :

It’s Sunday morning. The phone rings.

Hi all, apologies on being so quiet. Unfortunately our internet connection has been, well, pretty fucked lately, which is why I'm writing this from my phone.

It has been unanimously decided (ie, all the voices in my head agree) that Marijayn is the winna! Of what tho I have no idea. Beer possibly? We'll have to see.

Pinch, punch, first of the month. White rabbits.

And then I won't bore you with this anymore.

So, I'm standing there in the loo doing my bit for the environment in the sink when I hear this guy on his cell-phone from the stall at the end. He says, "The biggest problem I face being gay is my obsession with pussy." He went on to catalog all the porn and skirt-gaping he had to get through to satisfy his needs on a daily basis.

The important thing, the really seriously, monumentally, critically important thing to remember when trying to summon a demon, right, is to make sure the Coffee Can of Slaughter is properly holed. If you screw that up you just end up with a big old soggy cup of congealing bits instead of a nice clean pouring line.

Nothing says “You doos!” quite like pain. Well, that and waking up in your own blood and knowing you’ve screwed up badly.

Clare’s blog on regrets, together with a random iPod moment, had me thinking recently – not just about regrets, but about life-paths in general.

Wow. And I thought PMS could be a bitch.