Paris Hilton Gets Fucked

Yes - THE Paris Hilton and no, it's not a charity event, although I think she might be needing it - the event thing rather than the other.

She has to raise funds somehow.

The 'queen of spending money' has just discovered that Grandpa Hilton - provider of funds for all her ludicrous activities and imbecilic behaviour, has donated all his money to charity.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This rather hinders her credit card payments and ability to be frivolous beyond belief. In fact, the billions she was expecting have been given instead to worthy causes.

It's not very Gothic but, ok, I did allow myself a somewhat dignified, but essentially satisfying chortle.

Welcome to the real world, my myopic bimbo.

Now, you will actually have to do stuff for a change. This should be interesting in a fashion that you have never achieved in your 'well-earned' rise to stardom, money and 'pissing it all away' behaviour.

Just think of the career openings with such an illustrious and compelling CV - tsk, tsk *berates himself* I read 'did fuck all' when it should have said...'.

However, always the heroic Goth, I have some suggestions for new movies that she could take a starring role in (apart from the obvious pornographic material - released on the Internet, accidentally on purpose):-

• The Good, The Bad and the Plain Fucking Stupid


• "Ooops, There Goes My Inheritance Vicar"


• Ready, Steady, Fucked


• Gone In 60 Seconds


• Nightmare On Cash Point

However, being a nice Goth, I feel compelled to help her (well, I don't really, I'm just trying to be a better person) - what other movies could she shamelessly star in to furnish her lavish lifestyle??

The Little Book Of Calmer

Oh yes. I have found the 'little book of preposterous nonsense' again and I feel it only right that I share this complete and utter bullshit with you.

I don't know who wrote this, but I do know that if he, or she, muttered any of these meandering delusions in my prescence, he, or she would get soundly beaten to a pulp.

Unfortunately, according to the burble on the cover of this dissection of the human spirit, there are over 2 million idiots who have purchased this drivel and are wandering around the world in a delusional fashion.

A few select morsels for your entertainment and derision....

"The fewer things you must do in life, the fewer things you own, manage or are responsibile for, the fewer are the stresses that accompany them" - yeah, and I bet your partner was over the moon when you came out with that crock of shit - oh wait, you're single.... I wonder why that might be.

"Have you ever noticed how relaxed you feel the moment you remove your watch? Remove yours from time to time, and remove yourself from time pressures" - but how would you know when it was time to remove the bloody thing - you trippy hippy.

"The clothes you wear have a distinct influence on the way you feel. Loose garments, natural fabrics and light colours all lead to calm. This is why yogis wear white" - enough you idiot. Firstly, Yogi wore a tie, and a hat - neither of which were white. Secondly, the Klu Klux Clan wore white garments as per your instructions and I distinctly recall them not being calm, or rational - in fact, they were a bunch of neaderthal shitheads.

"If you substitute a herbal tea such as peppermint for more stimulating drinks such as coffee and tea, your ability to be calm will be enhanced many times" - so should I take coffee instead of herbal tea you muppet? - and, I don't see any mention of Wodka in that list, or Jack Daniels.

"Gardeners are among the most calm and relaxed people (while they're gardening) you'll find" - hmm, ok. But the rest of the time they're completely stressed about the fucking moles digging up their plants?!

Right. Enough of this bullshit. I am now going to set fire to the book and instantly feel calmer about myself. Ha ha, the book works you see - given enough petrol and a lighter - and a handy bottle of JD.

Calmer now :-)

Reflections Of An Ass

So, I was meandering along my way, quite happily I might add, when I got accosted. I don't mean busted for drugs, as I wasn't carrying any this time, I mean that I got stopped and asked to carry a heavily pregnant woman and a variety of pots and pans.

Normally, that wouldn't bother me - I can't really complain as it is in the job description of being 'An Ass For Hire' but, this muppet kept complaining that he hadn't got his wife pregnant at all - it was the 'Hand of God' or some lame excuse.

Now, I'm not human but even my furry butt understands that you don't get laden with youngsters without getting a bit frisky - trying to foist the blame onto a non-specific entity is the oldest trick in the book.

Anyway, we arrived at some love-shack where my customer decided that we should spend the night. I wasn't overly fussed as it was getting a bit chilly and to be fair, the driver had got some carrots hidden in the towel on his head, which was bloody handy as I was feeling a bit peckish.

I was feeling rather tired and let slip the fact that I do actually speak. It wasn't really my fault but the woman was moaning so much that an expletive escaped from my tongue....

"Jesus Fucking Christ"

I muttered and, to my dismay, the woman said "That's a nice name - I think I might go with that". To be honest, I nearly choked on my carrot but, discretion being the better part of valour, I held my tongue and tried not to regurgitate the carrots.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the barn door, and three hippies appeared talking nonsense about 'following a light' or something. To be honest, I couldn't understand what they were harping on about - the smell that they were exuding was so bloody atrocious.

"We have presents for the Son Of God" said one of the hippies.
"Yeah - we've totally brought some..... dude, what did we bring?"
"We have brought things - important things.... that are worth lots of money because..."
"Yes - we've brought some stuff, that you totally won't use but smells nice in the bath, I think....."

The rest of the conversation is a bit hazy because I was desperate to go to the toilet and to be honest, the services in the hostelry were a bit shit and I didn't fancy the look of them at all. Thus, I farted and pretended I was going somewhere interesting.

I was going to return but there was so much fawning over the sprog, that I didn't feel that I belonged. Anyway, I already had my saddle-bags packed for my trip to Peru. I have to go and see Diana The Llama - she has the nicest girly-lumps you have ever seen.

Christmas Spirit

Not the ghosty one, rattling chains and reminding you of all the shit things you've done in your life. I'm talking about the purely alcoholic one. Anyway who says that drinking is not big and not clever can fuck right off my planet.

Drinking is great and clever. Logically, if all of those miserable bastards who start wars and talk religious bollocks got pissed more often, the world would be a far better place.

International conferences should be held in bars. Just think how much would be achieved. Well, probably not an awful lot but, it would be jolly good fun.

One of my favourite places to visit was a Gothic nightclub. There was never, ever, a fight in there because everyone was so off their faces that they couldn't be arsed to fight. If a drink was spilt there was no macho posturing and threats of violence. The conversation was more like:-

"You just spilt my drink you pissed twat"
"Sorry, I fucked up - let me buy you another one".

The Middle East conflict could have been solved so quickly with enough alcohol, and maybe a kebab afterwards.

So to all visitors to Goth World - I raise a glass and wish you a prosperous new year with lashings of ginger beer - laced with whisky obviously.

All Saints

It's a very French thing but apparently every day of the year has it's own Saint. In some respects, I find that slightly amusing as I was actually named after The Saint - which was very annoying to me as a child as I wanted to be called Steve like the Six Million Dollar Man. It also meant that my initials were exactly the same as Sanitary Towel - always handy if you need beating up in school.

Back to the days and Saints thing. Obviously, having to come up with 365 Saints names necessitates scraping the bottom of the barrel. Today, for example, is Saint Pierre Canisius day. That's not too bad I suppose but here are a few others of interest:-

February 12 - Saint Felix (patron saint of cats I believe)

March 2 - Saint Charles Le Bon (founder member of Duran Duran)

March 20 - Saint Herbert (inventor of yellow powder that fizzes on your tongue)

May 12 - Saint Achille (proud wearer of go-faster sandals)

May 18 - Saint Eric (the half a bee)

June 5 - Saint Igor (the first Saint to live in a spooky castle)

July 20 - Saint Marina (patron Saint of yachts)

July 28 - Saint Samson (no, I'm not making this shit up - it exists!!)

September 22 - Saint Maurice (some people call him the Space Cowboy - woo hoo)

September 25 - Saint Hermann (the original Munster)

October 30 - Saint Bienvenu (the first Saint to work as a doorman at the Pearly Gates)

December 29 - Saint David (which is unusual as March 1st is St Davids day in Wales)

So, I think it's time for a Saint Goth day. I can't remember exactly what you have to do to be a Saint - I think it has something to do with 2 miracles or something. I can do that. All I have to do is eat a McDonalds burger without blowing chunks and then watch Paris Hilton on TV without shouting "KILL, KILL, KILL".

Siempre.

Then I get my own day. Of course, I dare say you have some better suggestions for miracle type shite I could do?......

Golf. It's Contagious.

Goth would ask you to guess what he likes about golf but, it's a pretty short list. In fact, the list doesn't exist at all.

I mean, what the fuck is there to like about people twatting a ball with a stick, in the hope that ball goes into some squirrel nest?!?

If you can't twat the ball into the hole, dig a bigger fucking hole !! It's not rocket science, just the law of averages.

I grew up next to a golf course, and it was just a procession of sad cunts, dressed like pimps looking for where they had misplaced their balls. The bastards couldn't get laid, in a brothel, with fifty quid hanging out of their arse pockets.

Unfortunately, this disease, known as golf, is contagious. I know because I nearly caught it once. My 'ickle' brother, who isn't 'ickle' at all, persuaded me to try out this idiotic sport.

I had to think carefully before I acquiesced.

"Hmmmmm - my brother, the policeman, with a gun, and his Police warrant card, and a very short temper with metal sticks encountering stuck-up, pompous twats, whining about 'playing through'". Now That's Entertainment!!!!!

"Oh go on then" I said, instantly feeling better about myself.

Granted, I was hoping that PC Bro would 'kick off' and insert a golf club, at high velocity, where the sun doesn't shine.

Boo hiss - didn't happen.

We just had a long walk - punctuated with "Oh for fucks sake"!!!! - 'hmmm, that'll be the water then"

I'd love to say that I got birdies, and eagles and other flying stuff, but I didn't. I'm 'shit-hot' at the game on the Playstation, but, in reality, I'm like Stevie Wonder on a zebra crossing - fucking clueless.

I'm not giving up though. I've seen the spastics that attempt to play golf. I'm better - at least I can see where my ball fucked off to.

"Oh look - trees, with big mushrooms hiding my.....""it SO did NOT go in the water/sand/fucking trees.... again"

Santa Does Not Exist

Discuss.

What sort of an exam question is that? Fucking wankers.

Of course he exists you myopic, philosophical twats. How else would children get presents at Christmas? Not everyone can have a Frequent Argos card. Just because rich bastards can buy their children small islands, like Great Britain, does not nullify the existence of a jolly fat man handing out presents to children who actually need them.

Then, the tossers get religious - "Well, it is supposed to be the birth date of Jesus" - according to whom? Even the most spotty scholars in your most insular institution have concurred that the hippy was born in 4AD. So either, the calendars are fucked or, you got your fucking dates wrong you muppets.

Therefore, just because a bunch of anally retentive scholars made a bodge, but can't admit it, we have to deny that some fat, happy, bearded, super-hero is giving gifts to children across the world without any religious affiliation?

So what that he needs to have mastered the art of time travel. Big fucking deal. I've been pissed many a time and thought it was still Monday when it was actually Wednesday. I time-travelled forward, and yes, it made me blow chunks in the process. He didn't, and he captivated all with his cherubic smile whilst quaffing Sherry in substantial volumes.

In conclusion, Santa does exist and anyone who says different should stop poking people up the bottom.

I reckon I failed my exam to get into The Vatican.

Looking on the bright side, I always considered my arse as 'EXIT ONLY' so it's not that big a loss.

Organised Religion?? - Fucking Arse Bandits - the lot of them.

SANTA ROCKS !!!!

Now That's A Target

Very few creatures scare or even worry me. I know people have phobias about, indeed I remember a posting on Phobias where someone said that "Anything with more than 4 legs that isn't a table is unnatural". Me? Dont' care.

Snakes? Not bothered - my brother used to keep them, my uncle still does.
Scorpions? Don't care - I'll just stamp on the little rascals.
Maggots? Used to them from my years as a FisherGoth.
Spiders? Love them - they eat flies.
Wasps? Hours of fun with a badminton racquet.
Sharks? So what, I'm not going in the water anyway.

Anyway, it brings me around to what I was going to talk about. Some Space Cadets in the jungle have discovered a RAT AS BIG AS A CAT.

I'm not afraid of rats - I rather like them as a target. It started when I was young and we lived in the country. We were cleaning out the garage when a rat ran across the floor from one pile of boxes to another. Papa Goth is afraid of rats and so he went running inside to fetch his rifle. This action merely caused me and my little brother to collapse in fits of laughter.

The laughter stopped on my fathers return, rifle in hand, to assassinate the rodent. His 'plan' for want of a better word, was that my brother and I should move boxes until the rat emerged and he would shoot it. Pure logic never works with someone suffering from fear, so explaining that the bullet would ricochet around the concrete garage didn't carry anyway. When the rat emerged, the bullet, as expected, ricocheted around the garage causing us to flee for our lives.

Years later, living in the country, I used to spend my evenings in the kitchen with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a high powered air rifle, potting off rats as they ran across the lawn. I was very accurate.. until the bottle was half consumed, then I wasn't so accurate but, it gave me hours of fun.

So to the new discovery, the CAT/RAT. I think even I could hit it having drunk all the bottle, as for my father? He was last seen carving a trail through the jungle at 100 miles an hour in the opposite direction.

Any other scary creatures I have missed?

Sorely Disappointed

Around the world, there must be a large number of severely disappointed perverts. The reason I know this, is that a lot of these mother fuckers descend on my site hoping for, fuck knows what but IT'S NOT FUCKING HERE.

Regulars to Goth World will know, that there are no pictures on this site. No fucking pictures of Michael Jackson fisting Bubbles, no cum shots - in fact, there are no bloody pictures at all.

Apparently, there are 157 sites that link to this blog - which is fucking cool as I don't think I asked for any. None of which are sex sites, most are intelligent people just 'voicing' their thoughts - check out the links on the left and see what I mean.

In the meantime, there appears to be thousands of freaks turning up here looking for material to masturbate to - BWAHAHAHAHA - how sorely disappointed they must be.

The last ten searches are as follows:-

• women in leather giving blow jobs in leather


• "the perfect male day"


• goth fucked


• good nice pussy


• aunties blow jobs


• learn punjabi swear words


• Rhino penis


• Foreskin blow jobs


• free goth stuff


• sleep shagging

So, my brief Christmas message to all of you asexual freaks is - refine your searches and learn to spell, you illiterate bastards.

For regulars, I want you to vote for my pre-Christmas posting. It will be the nativity scene but you have a choice on whose perspective it will be based upon....

Should it be:-
A = From one of the Wise Men
B = From The Donkey
C = From Joseph

Goth, I love religion - from a distance

Friday And I'm Feeling Lazy

Couldn't be arsed to write a proper post today and so, as most office workers are having their Christmas parties tonight - here's a little Christmas Spirit (apologies if you've already seen it)

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak.

After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done.

The monsignor replied, “When I am worried about getting nervous On the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip.”

So next Sunday he took the monsignor’s advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink.

He proceeded to talk up a storm.

Upon his return to his office after the mass, he found the following note on the door:
1) Sip the vodka, don’t gulp.
2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3) There are 12 disciples, not 10.
4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5) Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.
6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.
7) The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior and the spook.
8) David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.
9) When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, don’t say he was stoned off his ass.
10) We do not refer to the cross as the “Big T.”
11) When Jesus broke the bread at the last supper he said, “take this and eat it for it is my body.” He did not say “ Eat me” .
12) The Virgin Mary is not called “ Mary with the Cherry,.
13) The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, Yeah God.


Well, it is fucking Friday.....

Thursday's Trivia

As most people know, Thursday was named after the Germanic God - Thor. And no, before some smart-arse says he was a Norse God, Germanic covers all the Nordic lands - so there !!

Anyway, Thor was the God of THUNDER, and WAR and farming. Quite why he was the God of farming seems a bit of a mystery. I remember growing up in Wales that the 'young farmers' used to come down to the bright lights of the 'discotheque innit' every 2 weeks or so, and there was fighting indeed, but it wasn't really a war, more a pointless scuffle between mindless idiots.

I suppose being the God of farming might explain why his chariot was drawn by two goats - I mean only a farmer could come up with that idea. I remember a farmer friend of mine explaining how his father couldn't afford a guide dog so they gave him a guide rabbit instead.

"Had to take it back in the end though" he explained (in his very Welsh accent)
"Why was that?" I enquired, intrigued
"Cost too much to keep digging him out of the bloody holes"

Back to Thor though. He travelled around with a big hammer, called MJOLLNIR if you're interested, which he used to go around bonking people on the heads with. Apparently, his biggest enemies were the Frost Giants, all of whom he slayed by swinging his big 'un at them in a rather aggresive fashion.

Before he got to the last one though, some of the other Gods tried to help out the Frost Giant by fashioning a large clay giant called Mist Calf. Now personally, I would have assumed that becoming a God required some degree of intelligence. To me, clay versus hammer is only going to have one outcome but for some reason these Gods were too fucking stupid to figure it out. Unsurprisingly, when the clay giant (a huge version of Wallace, from Wallace and Gromit) appeared, Thor dutifully smashed the fuck out of it.

Thor would probably still be scooting around in his goat powered chariot now, were it not for his untrustworthy sidekick Loki. For Thor, his side kick was indeed bad Loki, and the cheeky little Fire God led Thor into a trap.

So, unfortunately, Thor got killed and the calendar was changed so that Thursday was named after him. It's probably a good thing really, as in the original Gregorian calendar, Thursday was initially named after Jupiter. Jupesday doesn't quite have the same ring to it really - especially when you consider what a Jupe is in French......

Well, that's my educational post done for another year ;-)

Wordless Wednesday

And no, it's not one of those bloody lazy posts where I write bugger all and just let people leave comments. Far too boring for Goth World that. Oh no, you're going to have to your imagination and read the rest of the post to someone else using only mime - i.e. in the style of Marcel Marceau.

So, let's start with the easy stuff. You are stuck in a large plastic box, like a giant aquarium. (Don't worry - you only have to do it for a few seconds, not several weeks like that idiot David Blaine. There's something seriously wrong with that bloke.)

Next, pretend you are walking into a very strong wind, so lean forward and walk whilst actually going backwards. Kind of like a Michael Jackson style moonwalk. (If you do opt for the Michael Jackson thing though, you don't have to get sued for sleeping with children or have to shag any passing monkeys).

Now, you are walking down an imaginary flight of stairs, or if you are really clever, going down an escalator - any smartarse that can do a lift/elevator gets points deducted for being too clever.

Driving a car is next. You can choose any nationality to imitate but it should be clear from the mime, which nationality it is. This can be indicated by honking your horn incesantly for Italians, gesticulating wildly for French, and road rage for British. If your chosen nationality don't really drive cars, you can use another form of transport - for example, cramming into a Metro car like a sardine for Japanese, and clinging forlornly to any free space on a train for Indian.

Finally, you have to pretend to be Neo from The Matrix - which involves bending over backwards in slow motion whilst dodging bullets and the obligatory jumping in the air to do a karate kick and pausing in mid-air whilst the whole room revolves around you (nice trick if you can do it).

See, now wasn't that far more interesting than me just writing fuck all for a Wordless Wednesday???

Mission Not Bloody Likely

#Do do do do, diddle do, diddle do - dah da#

"Your mission, should you decide to accept it Goth, is to go shopping with a woman and enjoy it...."
"You have got to be taking the piss"
"No, I'm not taking the piss - and more than that, you are not allowed to get angry, storm off or go to the pub. Additionally, you will have to travel on public transport and go into the city centre - no cheating using the internet. This message will self destruct in 30 seconds"
"It's going to destruct a lot quicker when I twat it with a hammer"
(Sometime later)


Goth is on the Metro heading into the city with his woman to face his nemesis, shopping. Ensuring he has the correct tools is vital to completing the mission - 40 Marlboro and 2 lighters, in case one fails and a large unbrella for poking old people out of the way.

First stop, as always, is the shoe shop. I cannot understand why women need so many shoes. Two feet = 1 pair of shoes. Why therefore would one person need 40 pairs of shoes? I can only assume that because they spend so much time walking between shops that they wear them out quicker.

By the time the second shop has been reached, it is time to remain outside and smoke a cigarette. Time to contemplate just why it is so bloody complex shopping. For me, you know what you want, where to buy it - and so you go directly to that shop, buy it and then go home. Simple enough.

Next is the clothes shop and the obligatory 'take 8 garments into the changing room, try them all on, and like none of them'. One hour of sheer boredom later, and without a single shopping bag, it's onto the next shop.

After fuck knows how many shops later, we return to the first shop to buy the ideal shoes she had seen and could not find any cheaper anywhere else. Guess what? They've sold the bastards and they have none left.

However, I did not get angry, concentrated on my Zen and refrained from impaling any little old gits with my umbrella.

Did I enjoy it though?

Not bloody likely.....

The Power Of Language

Once upon, all people spoke the same language - they all said "Ug" and other grunty type words. But it couldn't last, and according to the bible (that handy reference book of nonsense):-

'The people decided to build a tower to the heavens'

(which they had to do properly as Lego wasn't invented then). And then comes the good bit:-

'The Lord came down to see the city and it's tower'

(now, excuse me, but if god is omnipresent, why does he feel the need to travel anywhere - he's already bloody there by definition)

Anyway, god got pissed off because it wasn't part of his plan at all. So he made them speak different languages and so they called the city Babel, because they couldn't agree on the spelling of 'babble'.

Thus all the people moved around the world, but not in a balloon as they hadn't been invented either. But the people were cunning and decided to name their languages after their countries and so the French spoke French, because their country was called France etc.

The next bit of the bible probably got relagated to The Apocrypha but I'm fairly sure that the bearded one said "Right, I need some religious wars to teach these bastards that I'm the clever one"

Finally, one person decided to invent a universal language, which he called Esperanto. God was mightily pissed off about this and thus shot him up the arse with a lightning bolt and he died.

In the end, god just moped on his thrown muttering to his angels "I gave them Hebrew, what more do they bloody want"

When an angel replied "well, they might like Latin for naming flowers and stuff"

At which point, god stormed off in a huff - before realising that he couldn't as he was ominpresent.....

It's Christmas Time

And there's no need to be afraid. Or so sang the Band Aid before they got plastered.

Well, I'm sorry, but it is a time to be afraid. My parents could never understand why I was scared but, in retrospect, if you explain it in similar terms, it becomes very much the Santa Witch Project.

"If you go to sleep, Santa will come"
"But if I'm asleep, how will he get in?"
"He'll come down the chimney"
"But, if there's a fire - he'll burn his bottom"
"It's ok, as he's magic and can walk through fire"
"Why does he want to come here though?"
"So he can leave you presents"
"Like a 'reverse burglar'?"
"No, he's just a jolly person who wants to reward all the good children in the world"
"But...... how does he know which children are good?"
"Because he watches them all through the year and if they're good...."
"How does he judge if they're good?"
"Erm, because he does.... as that's what he does"
"Ok - but how can he visit every child in the world in one night?"
"Well, he has a magic sleigh pulled by reindeer and.."
"Flying reindeer"
"Yes, flying reindeer..."
"Who can time travel"
"Pardon? - why would they want to time-travel?"
"Logically, he can't get all around the world in one night unless...."
"Fine - he can time travel"
"And walk through fire"
"Yes, he can walk through fire"
"And he sees everything in the world like Zeus?"
"He sees who's been good and who's been bad"
"I suppose you want me to go to sleep now?"
"Well, that would be nice dear"
"But, if I go to sleep, the magic man who can walk through fire, and time travel, and has flying reindeer, and who sees what everyone does throughout the year might come here - but he can also move like Samurai and I wouldn't hear him, but he might have a sword and chop my arms off"

"Honey - it's your turn to try and get him to sleep and where's that bloody sherry?!"

Oh, the joys of parenting.

Postscript - BUT Santa does exist, so there!!

You Have To Fight

(For the right - to party) according to the Beastie Boys.

Personally, I've moved from anger to silent resignation and acceptance which apparently appears to anger people even more.

"I'm fucking talking to you, are you even taking notice??????"

"Not really"

*shrugs and wanders off*

However, I did hear a funny story whilst I was recently in the United Kingdom of Stupidity. Apparently, a group of Eco-friendly Vegans (or whatever) were protesting outside a London branch of KFC (the shite fast-food place) as they were indignant about how the chickens are treated before they are massacred and deep-fried.

In itself, no issue so far. I'm not overly keen on people telling me what I can or cannot eat but, they felt the need to protest - which is fine.

So after 10 minutes of marching round in circles with placards and banners, chanting about the chickens rights to do whatever, the manager of KFC comes out and says....

"Excuse me, would you go away please - you're putting customers off"

Hmmm, that'll be why it's called a PROTEST then.

The Vegans would have argued back but they were too weak to move ;-)

Un-Happy Birthday

So, apparently, Goths can have children.

It's a reproductive, rather than Gothic process. It has rather more to do with the SEX thing as opposed to the lipstick, although the 'make-up' can help in certain circumstances.

However, it is 14 years since mini-Goth appeared on this planet, and thus 15 years since virginity jumped out of the plane without a parachute.

I had hoped that the anniversary was going to be a spectacular event. Goth was not disappointed by the fireworks....

"I hate you", he announced, with subtle undertones.

"That's what birthdays are for" I replied, in a melancholic, but slightly despondent way.

Then I woke up, and I was on the plane....

Gifts had been purchased, flights organised, hotels booked - etc.

Like Britney and her Spears said - 'Ooops I fucked up again', in a rehabilitation, losing the plot and losing your hair type way.

The conception of it seemed so simple really......

Fuck it - rain-check.....

A: Travel to the United Kingdom of Stupidity
B: See Mini-Goth and say Happy Birthday
C: See Mini-Gothess and say hello
D: See Mrs Ex-Goth and say nothing
E: xplain why I cannot ever walk backwards and why.

Except, it didn't quite work that way. In fact, it couldn't have gone more 'pear-shaped' if I'd had a market stall tossing pork at the muslims, yelling "Catch !! Hotdog" - in a vegan way.

Consequently, I fucked up Mini-Goths birthday.

It wasn't intentional but, I will take all the blame for it being shit, in a "My dad fucked it up" sort of way.

The worst part is, it's not so much what I did, but what I didn't do.