<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I have received a special request, via text message, from Pimp Daddy JC, in which he begs me to update my weblog, because he has nothing better to do with his life, and nothing else worth living for. The problem is that I have nothing to write about at present. Not that there's nothing especially fabulous happening in my life, of course. Let me make this abundantly clear now: I have things going on that you would never be able to even dream about thinking of. Things that your tiny, unopened minds, when faced with the truth of my life, would make you run to hide under your mother's skirts. Oh yes. My life is full to the brim and bursting with excitement, scandal, profanity and just a little illegal trafficking on the side. But the thing is, I can't be bothered writing about any of it.

Now, King of Bling JC has sent me a little list of things that I could write about, two of them of course being how great he is. And although I'm sure a lot of you out there could vouch to the greatness (or otherwise) of Jam Master JC, I'm not about to add to the general chorus that swells his ego on a daily basis. Therefore, I'm still rather stuck for a topic.

I've applied to take a theory test for my driving licence. This will be happening on the 21st of April. I could write about that, or the fact that I'm probably going to kill myself and about 20 other people (pedestrians, drivers, my driving instructor) in the south Dublin area the first time I get into a car on the right hand side, but I can't be bothered. I could write about how appalling it is that I rang an 1890 number in Ireland to get a date for my theory test and got put through to the UK to a man who didn't know where Blackrock is, didn't know what the DART was, and even asked me for a postcode when no postcodes exist in Ireland. But I can't be bothered. I could tell you all about the new health club that I've joined, where I've been going for the last four days, and all about the freaks that frequent that establishment. But - and I think you know what's coming - I can't be bothered.

While I've been writing this, self styled truth kicker JC has been kicking out the truth to me via text message. So, because this post isn't going anywhere, I'll leave the final word to him.

"So is that a yes or a no about writing about how brilliant I am? 'JC: Poet, Lover, Warrior. If he didn't exist somebody would HAVE to invent him.' Something like that? I for one would read it."

Thanks, JC.

This entry was posted on 05 April 2004 at 4:51 pm. 0 comments

0 Comments:

Post a Comment