:: m u m s l u t ::

Get your filthy hands off me you sick pervert
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:: Saturday, August 31, 2002 ::

Kind words from the curiously spelt Lord Spanial, to whom I am humbly grateful. I know nothing of Lord Spanial, other than that if the time of his comment is correct, he gets up very early, or perhaps goes to bed incredibly late. I am absolutely certain that he is a real Lord.
:: super 9:48:00 PM [+] ::
It was the fifth anniversary of the death of Princess Diana this week. A lot of people have being say how they cannot believe she has been gone for five years. My message to those people is: you're not trying.

There isn't a day that goes by where I think about her kindness, grace, keen sense of social responsibility and above all her razor wit and infinite personality. She truly was the Queen of Hearts - The People's* Princess

* The People are a bunch of fuckwits
:: super 9:26:00 PM [+] ::
:: Thursday, August 29, 2002 ::
Only me!
:: Boney 6:56:00 PM [+] ::
:: Saturday, August 24, 2002 ::
Correction: Cleopatra's television programme was not barely viewable, but was actually completely unwatchable. Please accept my apologies, and in the unlikely event of such programme ever being broadcast again, stay well clear. It was produced by themselves, apparently.
:: super 5:26:00 PM [+] ::
Cleopatra, comin' atcha. All this stuff about S Club is all very well, but everyone forgets the real teen pop trailblazers - why, Cleopatra of course, you mindless simpletons - who caught the eye and the ear with their top pop tunes and barely viewable television programme. What got me thinking about them, you ask? The Kids Special Stars in their Eyes. The fake Cleopatra was a remarkably accurate turn, featuring a short asre squeaky one, a gangly plain one and a slightly overweight dumpy one*. Triffic!

I only saw the doppelganger Cleopatra, and can only wonder at what other acts were served up. I would hope junior versions of Johnny Cash, Mark E Smith and Captain Beefheart.

*I used to affectionately refer to her as 'Tank'
:: super 5:23:00 PM [+] ::
Yes, it is easy to get Arsenal and Man Utd fans mixed up sometimes, isn't it?
:: super 5:12:00 PM [+] ::
:: Monday, August 19, 2002 ::
I'm frightened by the tall bird out of Liberty X.
:: super 7:55:00 PM [+] ::
Rob, I never suggested that the two were linked.
:: super 7:46:00 PM [+] ::
:: Monday, August 12, 2002 ::
My cat watch: my cat brought home its biggest and best prize to date yesterday - a big fuck off dragonfly. Or it could have been a damselfly. One rests with its wings stuck out at 90 degrees to its body, the other with them flush along its sides. Which is which? I can' t remember. Now go to bed, for goodness sake.
:: super 9:16:00 PM [+] ::
Vibe TV's and my own special efforts to promote Angelle's debut single have paid handsome rewards. 'Joy and Pain' ROCKETED into the UK singles chart yesterday at number 43. Wallop!!
:: super 9:10:00 PM [+] ::
So no Beast, but did I did overcome my fear of something just as monstrous - the Safeway Party selection. Seasoned Mumslutters will recall the terrible effects that this had on my digestive system just after Christmas, and would think that I would have learned my lesson as a result. However, the magical effects of the words 'half price' meant that another box was procured, that proved just as delicious as that infamous festive feast. By a strange quirk of fate, I did not have to endure the trots again as a result - just the opposite in fact - as I was lucky enough to become constipated. Three days without a proper crap - a record for me and no mistake.
:: super 9:07:00 PM [+] ::
And why would you. I survived Cornwall, and hopefully so did the little black cat I ran over (in my car). Witnesses did claim that the pussy ran off into a hedge - hopefully to take stock and think about being more careful when crossing the road in future, and not to die slowly and in hideous pain. It could have been a baby Beast of Bodmin, in which case no one is safe now that I have incurred its wrath. Perhaps the Ormskirk Catfish will come to mankind's aid - perhaps not.

Well there wasn't much to review in Cornwall, bar a few greasy caffs (7 out of 10 being the best mark I felt able to award) and the Eden Project (4 out of 10 - it's a fucking greenhouse and has potatoes as one of the attractions) and I avoided both clotted cream and fudge. I did have an ice cream in Padstowe, purchased from a seafront eaterie notable only for the fact that it employs a bloke called Station who lives under a bush near the cycle route. A nice ice cream though - Belgian Chocolate - worthy of 7.5 out of 10.

Station claims to have seen the Beast of Bodmin (the adult version) but as he is a big consumer of mushrooms, booze and other mind altering substances (Station, not the Beast), his testament is not the piece of evidence that proves its existence beyond ALL DOUBT that I was looking for.
:: super 8:40:00 PM [+] ::
In the words of Mozzer himself: 'And here I am/And here I am/Well you don't need to look so pleased'
:: super 8:35:00 PM [+] ::
:: Thursday, August 01, 2002 ::
I'm going to Cornwall on Saturday - fuck knows why - so no words of wisdom for a few days. Unless I get devoured by the Beast of Exmoor on my way through Devon, I will be speaking to you all later. You can be sure of that.
:: super 6:31:00 PM [+] ::

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Comments by: YACCS