Right In The Beak

I just googled "Ancillary Rodham Clinton". Nothing. What are people doing with their time? Not coming up with names for politician clones, that's for sure.

This has been a shipwreck of a day. Apologies to those who have lost loved ones or luggage in actual shipwrecks.

I wonder how many tweets I've done about shipwrecks...

Oh jesus there are four.

Four different tweets about shipwrecks.

"I don't remember many details about the shipwreck. It all happened so fast..." - Idiots in the old days.

Lighthouses aren't always successful at preventing shipwrecks. But they're better than heavyhouses.

Out on the lash tonight. And by "out" I mean "in". And by "lash" I mean "shipwreck of an armchair".

There's a small area of your back that's impossible to scratch during a shipwreck.

The second one doesn't make any sense.

I just bought and ate an expensive sausage roll. How can it only be Thursday? How can I only be thirty? It feels like Friday afternoon and old age.

I'm not going to apologise for anything today. Except for the shipwreck analogy. But apart from that, I stand by everything I'm writing.

It's depressing? Good. It should be.

It's similar to previous posts? Good. That's the way I like it.

I'm being an attention-whore? Good. I want attention. I want you all to see how terrible everything is, especially that heavyhouses tweet. I want you to see that and pity me.

Belligerent? Fine. I will be. I shall do. Nothing you can do about it.

Coffee? Yes, I am drinking some. Why do you ask? Is it the aggression? I can see how you put two and two together. I'm applauding sarcastically.

I'm sick of you and your kind telling me what I can and can't say. I'm sick of filters and censors and propriety. I'm my own man. I'm out there in the world, living day to day, trying to take care of business. And if a few people get hurt, or confused, or offended, that's just their too bad (except, as I mentioned, those who have lost loved ones in shipwrecks, to whom I offer my profound sympathy).

Life's to short. To short to type a double 'o' after the 't'. One 'o' will have to do, you squares. I'm not Johnny Rulebook. I march too the beat of my own drum.

And yes, maybe I have done two tweets that include the phrase "I march to the beat of my own drum" followed my an amusing follow-up. But I'm not going to copy them here. They're not funny enough. Also, up yours. How about that?

You can tell I'm serious because I'm not using any exclamation marks. This is serious f'ing business. I don't even need to swear. Look into my eyes. Are these the eyes of a considerate man? No they f'ing well are not.

I'm going to punch something on the way home. And if that thing just happens to be a goose, I'm not going to bat an eyelid. Not a single lid. I'm tired of being dictated to. I'm ploughing my own furrow, and my furrow will be fierce.

Here's another gif I saw. Yeah, that's right: a gif.

I'm not sorry. Except about the lost luggage.