Axed!

Well it had to happen. Reverend got fed up with my smelly socks and cooking whiskey. I now live in a small village named liver-pool. Strange people up here. The dont smell, smile constantly and spit when they speak to you! Cant get a new cassock though for love nor money! Me arse is starting to show. Later bastards.

Bollocks part 2

Hello Bastards.

Bollocks!

FG.

Thought for the day: Bollocks part 2!

Yep!

Hello Bastards.
No more whingeing from me. Great days ahead. Still in the capital, well whats left of it after lastnight. On a more sombre note nearly had afight with these three wankers who tryed to push me off the bridge. After threatening them with instant death they ran off, fucking poofters! Well I think there were three, but I was pisssed!

Later bastards.

FG.

Thought for the next 27 years: Yipppppppppeeeeeeeeeee!

Clarity versus confusion

Hey Dudes,

A friend of mine earlier said that confusion was their favourite state of being because they knew where they were all the time. To facillitate this state drunkeness was the key. Now this is against my normal ethos as I require clarity most of the time. However, as a mature man of these shores, I feel duty bound to experiment in the above way to try and discover which is the better state to be at one with. To this end, over the coming months I will try and be confused and inebriated as much as possible to try and find clarity in the aforesaid way thus eliminating any confusion that may arise from one genre to another and by this method clarify that confusion is another word for clarity. Is that clear so far?

Watch this space.

FG.
Thought for the day: Can clarity ever be the confusion we so require?

Fuck knows if I know whats going on, do you?

Hello Bastards,

What the fuck is going on? Total confusion here on the island. Think I shall return to monastic life as the outer world is a strange place!

Though for the day: Dude, wheres my brain? And can I have my mojo back please?

Hell ain't a bad place to be!

Hello Bastards.

Most of the brusing should be gone now, and if any of you fuckers from that wedding gig tries to stick your sticky little hands up me cassock again you will get another good thumping got it!

Anyway, what a weekend. Far too much cooking whisky and music really. And what with the team doing ever so well in Paris there was bound to be some fallout. On the good side the police say they are not going to charge me for the damaged I caused to the off duty bastards at the gig, see above, on the downside too much cooking whisky lastnight to celebrate Davids birthday or something! Ah well thats life eh?

Later Bastards.

FG.

Thought for the day: If black is the new white, what is the new black?

43 Not out!

Hello Bastards.

Its my fucking birthday, so wheres my cake? Had a tidy bottle of cooking whisky of the rev earlier, and Father Bradley gave me 5p and a 50p of Daz coupon so all in all not a bad start to the day.
This nun I met in Liverpool is going to call me later, what a life eh! Life begins at 43!

Later Bastards

FG

Thought for the day:Asda's own non-biological washing powder, or Daz? You decide.