Diarmuid is Done.: Now look what you made me do...

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Now look what you made me do...

Left to my own devices, and with no-one here to talk any sense into me, I have gone and got my hair shaved into a discreet mohawk. I think when I grow up I am going to be an undercover garda at a punk gig.

"Howya there lads, tis yourselves, havin a mighty time no doubt, anarchy and all that. Meself, I wouldn't mind a bit of the ould waccy baccy, have yis got any, eh? Any of the quare stuff, eh, lads? Or maybe some E's lads, jesus I'd fuckin murder an E, no? Well if yis hear anythin, gis a shout, I'll be just over there havin me a hang sangwich."

Its a bad one but it'll do for the moment. Again, sorry mum.

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The little things...

Books that have new chapters instead of new paragraphs. Chapter 32, page 73.
A hot dog is not a sausage.
Vietnamese dubbing. All actors dubbed with the same bored woman's voice. Conversations between two people read like a shopping list.
The little barbershops in every country. Someone should do a photo tour of the barbershops of the world.
I am currently training myself to drink beer.
Diarmuid may henceforth talk about himself in the third person.
Every country I visit has the best sunsets and the most beautiful girls I've ever seen.
Kangaroos can't go backwards.
Mark Twayne is a genius. As is Donald Clarke.
Bamboo trees are the best trees in the world ever.
Ladyboys.
The irishman I met who claims he carried out surgery on himself using a penknife to remove 4 little wriggling white worms from his own little white worm. Lovely.
In Nepal its the year 2064. Where we're going we won't need roads.
Sometimes walking along city streets I suspect someone is following me, a pickpocket maybe. I pause, pretending to window shop and let the suspicious character pass by, then I resume walking. It makes me feel like a spy.
English Language Newspaper Reports - "Motor-cycle borne miscreants ", "Gave him a sound thrashing", "Caught in the wee hours"
Car's reverse warning noises (like lorries have). Being serenaded with "Moonlight Sonata" by a reversing Punto.
Dan Brown novels. The blurb on the back. "One of the samrtest (sic) writers around." Quite. May he burn in a hell of overused exclamation marks, italics and mysterious, beautiful scientists.
There are 35 ambulances in Delhi for 14 million people.
Powercuts randomly at anytime, worst at night as it switches off the fans and you wake up and have to peel yourself off the bed, the sheets wet with sweat.
I have now got a facebook account cos I'm down with the youth of Britain. Bo.
The Mango Tree Restaurant, where the dining experience is punctuated by the sounds of half eaten mangos thudding into the ground around you, having been thrown from the tree canopy by monkeys high above.