Went for nice walkies on the beach at Saltburn yesterday, had a great time. Apart from the town being over-run by bikers that is. What do these podgy wankers think they are? Fat, leather-clad bell-ends living in a fucking time warp, that's who they are. With their fucking wanky spotted bandanas, motorhead tee-shirts, enormous beer-bellies and fucking pathetically stupid faux viking helmets, hogging the roads, pumping out toxic exhaust fumes all over the fucking place. The roads were fucking well full of the twats out for possibly the last nice weekend of the year. Shot the fucking lot of them I say. You're not James Dean, you're a fat old twat who still lives at home with his Mum who spends half the day de-greasing a carburetor on the kitchen table and the rest in his bedroom watching porn before Mum brings him his tea on a tray. Get a fucking life, you sad bastard.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.