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A car drove into my front room this morning. No lies, it went straight through the window, smashed through the coffee table and ended up embedded in the cheap-o Ikea bookshelf against the opposite wall. My kitchen was saved only by various Atlases, The Complete Works of Shakespeare and The Chambers Dictionary (9th Edition). I don’t know why I have so many Atlases, I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them; still, it’s nice to know they’ve served at least one functional purpose in their existence.

Upon being woken up by the almighty crash and the trembling walls (yes, this happened the one day where I can get a lie in) my initial drowsy thought was But we don’t get earthquakes in Surrey!

123 words in 12 minutes at 02:13 PM on Jan 18, 2010 | comments

I’ve killed Charlie.


I’ve killed Charlie.

What are you on about?

I made him do another line, and now he’s dead in the bathroom.

Oh fucking hell.

OK, I’m coming.

bang bang bang

Hey Charlie, you alright in there man?


bang bang

Charlie, Charlie can you hear me? Charlie!


Oh shit, oh shit, what we gonna do? We gotta break the door down; fuck fuck fuck. Fuck! I’ve killed him, we’re gonna go to jail. Charlie’s dead and I’m going to jail.

Look, calm the fuck down. He’s probably just passed out. How much did you give him?

A fat line, like this…

Oh shit. That’s way too much.

C’mon we gotta break the door down, you gotta let me break the door. I gotta check. There’s not much time. If he’s dead we have to hide the body, there’s no other way. We’ll pretend he went home. We can’t leave a fucking corpse in Vanessa’s Mum’s toilet..

Alright, alright, we’ll break down the door. Find me a brick or something.

I can’t believe this is fucking happening

Here, I found this rock thing, will it do? Do it now, quick, you gotta break the lock. Hurry, before anyone comes

Just shut up will you?

bang, crunch, wood splinters, handle falls off

Fuck fuck, we’re in so much shit now. You didnt have to break the actual door, how we gonna explain this? Fuck. Charlie’s dead and I’m going to jail. Charlie’s dead and I’m going to jail!

Just shut up!

look inside. there’s charlie, asleep, curled around the toilet; snoring gently, peacefully, in a pile of vomit.

271 words in 16 minutes at 11:33 AM on Jan 18, 2010 | comments

History. It’s an exercise in futility. What’s the point in it?

All this about ‘using the past to explain the present’ is a load of rubbish. Because you can’t ever know the truth about the past, all you’re doing by writing History is constructing a myth in order to satisfy your own interpretation of current events.

It’s lies; you may as well just make it up.

I don’t want to be an Historian.

I want to own my own coffee house, and serve real coffee, not the overpriced crap filled with syrup and sugar that you buy in Starbucks.

Real coffee.

My regulars will be pointless academic students who come in to read difficult books and discuss politics over espressos. Really pretentious. To remind me just how pointless acadamia is. But also because I love pretence.

And in the mornings, I’ll be able to smoke a cigarette and sip a black coffee inside the shop, without being fined.

158 words in 15 minutes at 04:52 PM on Jan 17, 2010 | comments

Serious relationships. They freak me the fuck out.

I’m freaking. the fuck. out.

I like you – I really do – but why can’t you just chill. out. So that I can chill. out.

I don’t want to be your ‘girlfriend’, I don’t want to celebrate valentines day, I don’t want flowers or jewelry or chocolate or you to open doors for me or take me out to fancy restaurants or cinema dates or…

I want to get to know you. Without any of that bullshit. I want to hang out and make out and chat shit and shoot pool and drink cheap beer and watch rubbish films together.

I want to get to know you.

116 words in 11 minutes at 10:19 PM on Jan 11, 2010 | comments

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