Calling all boloists, for an as yet unclear reason….
Well it’s been a long time since I picked up my heavy hands and let them dance their booze infested dance on the keyboard, so now seems as good as time as any. I’ve formulated many plans to write short stories, amusing episodes and generally awe-inspiring, wit-infused prose on this site in the past, but fear, laziness and booze always seem to stand in my midst. Not tonight though, nooooooo, tonight I am Enid Blyton on crack. Tonight Mathew, I dance the fandango with an eyelid full of cocaine.
So, Bolo is 2 years of age, eh? An achievement in itself I’d say, if you consider how many of us have heard tell of this or that website, designed to hone the genius which we all would like to believe resides within the realms of our own social spheres. Perhaps it might be an idea to celebrate this fact in person? Given that the many of the contributors have never met, it could be a worthwhile bash. Strangers I’ve met before, but not those who have revealed parts of their worlds in blog form…
As for me, nothing much to report really. Just the usual French action over here. Much outrage, little action and plenty of fromage, strikes and the heady mix of celebrity and politiks (Sarkozy vs. Carla Bruni’s hind crease, part 12, the greasy discriminator).
Well, I’d like to write more, but it’s not fun to spend as much time correcting the work of drunken fingers as it is trying to hit the goddam plumbait keys in the first place. Bed beckons, followed by work in a den of menopausal hell, topped off by a driving lesson with a man creepy enough to be tagged as a paedo, yet entrusted with the job of teaching hapless fiends how to control a ton of solid steel (and tacky Renault plastic).
I’ll leave you with a film tip – A Danish trilogy called The Pusher. The first one is a must see if you get the option. If bolo would accept it, perhaps we could set up a pier to pier file share facility?
Thanks for reading, big up to the 2 year old bolo!
Spent a couple of hours this evening sipping strong filter coffee and nibbling at a rock cake, contemplating a series of expensive houses on t’internet and thinking – jesus, this is the calm before the storm.
At the moment I am invisible to the estate agents, but tomorrow I must stop putting off the inevitable. To ignore it any longer is to invite getting my current residence sold out from under me and find myself deposited back in the unwilling arms of the parentals. That is not good ju-ju, not by any means, so yes, the only answer is to pick up the phone and start baiting these clowns. Get real visible as a potential chain-free client with a bag of website money burning a hole in my pocket. It’s going to be open season.
From tomorrow, I will be afraid to pick up the phone, lest it be some scraggly yoot from Foxtons looking to pick my pockets, but for tonight I still have some peace. So I’m sitting here drinking this coffee and listening to the wind bash the windows, watching my phone blink silently and not feeling all that bad. Any fast movement could provoke danger, but maybe if I keep real still, things will be alright for a while.
To the rest of you, you will no doubt, be amazed/aghast/ashamed/delighted (delete as appropriate) to know that Bolo is now 2 years old. This means that while it is perfectly acceptable for bolo to run around shrieking, drink from a beaker and watch tellytubbies, the rest of you are old enough to know better. Here’s to another year of strange tales and happy accidents.
I have never felt threatened by immigration and I have often delighted in arguing with various people over the years over the value of bringing new people in to shake things up and change the social environment. As a result, I was pretty chuffed when I was asked by a friend of a friend to help them out in getting a site up and running which would help people to come to England without suffering from conmen, plumbaits or robbers, and putting them on the path to contributing to the legal economy. The site is now in final testing phase (bit rough around the edges, but coming along) and I invite anyone who wants or needs to to check it out at work-in-england.co.uk.
I find caffeine in both hot beverages and coca cola a major aid to staying up late pulling websites from my sleeves. However, there is only so long you can go after a few days of seeing how long you can go. That time has passed and it is now imperative that I switch off the evil machine, have a last cup of tea and a conflab and then hit the road. The trip is short and hopefully incident free and before I know it I will be home, taking off my jacket, planning a sandwich a small dosage of tv and then the blessed arms of deep and restful sleep. Hooray for cheese and pickle blessed night terrors and the ominous chance of Estate Agents leading crazies into my room if I once again oversleep.