Feeling incredibly tired after the weekend's shenanigans (more of which later) and pissed off with pretty much everything, I thought I'd cheer myself up with some olde Sweetes, from an Olde Sweete Shoppe. Of which there are two in Lichfield. (An aside, this gives you an idea of the kind of people who live and visit here (ie, the blue rinse brigade). They remember 1883 when these kind of shops were all over the country, mucky faced little lads sitting at the counter drinking a creamy sasparilla (the latest craze from faraway New York!), whilst the grubby handed shop assistant shoves handfuls of aniseed balls into paper bags. 'Oh, it takes you back doesn't it Doris? Back to the old days when the internet was in black and white and there weren't so many darkies from Eastern Europe in the country...') anywaaaaay, I walkied into the shop and immediatly noticed the local village idiot was in there, slobbering over the glass fronted counter and ordering a giro's worth of Kola Kubes. He finished ordering, paid and recieved his change. He then asked where the charity box was, the owner showed him and he placed his change in the slot. As he did, he ruminated upon the charity that was benefiting from his patronage. 'Ah, Macmillan Cancer Relief!' He mused 'I'll give to that, cos anyone could have it and we wouldn't know! Anyone of us here could have it here and they wouldn't know!' He looked around the shop 'I could be eating one of your sweets' indicating the shop owner 'and suddenly get cancer!' With this cheery and upbeat proclimation he turned on his heel and left the shop. It was my turn and to break the heavy silence hanging in the shop I ventured to the owner 'well, Monday morning and you've already been blamed for causing cancer!' True story.
This weekend was tiring as I spent three hours of Friday night driving back home, after which I was dragged halfway across York to watch Robocop at Anna's. we also started watching Robocop 2, but I ended up getting confused and angry with it. Saturday night saw me in Barnsley at Kate's Mum and Dad's gaff, eating om nom noms, whilst being brow beaten by their family friend Stewart. He asked me question after question about my personal life, how many family members I had, my career trajectory, my shoe size and my full medical history.
Sunday night was spent in the company of about one million METAL HEADS who'd travelled down to Birmingham to see the METAL KINGS: MANOWAR!! For you sad cunts that missed it, here it is:
