Inspired by my recent viewing of the Social Network I've decided to blog whilst drunk. Wow. Novel. Here come's my stream of consciousness, unedited, unadulteRated. R-RATED. Shiz.

Listening to Washed Out's EP and wondering where he is right now, cos, like, this shit is kewl.

Feeling guilty because I shrunk the beb-master skirt my sister bought me for christmas, it was mustard, Aline and had buttons. It was Ali McGraw to the max and I hearted it desperately and now it's gone. To the anorexics. Or fashion forward children. I wonder what it's like to live a guilt-free life. I feel guilt approximately ten times a day. On a good day. I'd love to know what it felt like to be unfettered by these societal cufflinks and iron bed posts.

I realised tonight that Jarvis Cocker should take over from David Attenborough should he wish to retire/ die. There is obviously no voice that comes even close to the shrink wrap, cottonous, peach fuzz that is Sir David's voice (and when combined with khaki shorts and a gorilla is there any human on earth that is more like a deity?), but I think the Reverend Jarvis would approximate to the nearest degree. So on that note i am going to write to Jarvis at 6 music to suggest he petition for this, in the unlikely event that David should expire before his all-bets-are-off brother Richard.

*Air drumming interlude to I want you to stay Maximo* AS TIME GETS MORE COMPLEX, YOU'RE ALWAYS MY REMINDER!

Miss northern accents. Sigh. Will defo have to do a month at home this July. I am starting to get pangs of missing homeness...Probably due to the skype call I had this morning with my mum, auntie jill and uncle Ken (who for the record only said that it had been "quiet since I left" well by the way betch...) when they begged me to come home, said I should buy a house and settle down "How old are you now? Come home you old bastard!"

Well not just yet, Ken, I will not go gentle into that good night, yet. To quote Michelle Pfeiffer.

I'm not sure what the plan is at the moment, not feeling very Hannibal I need a sign. Should I stay or should I go? Three months of farm work beckons if I decide i want to stay...I've seen the big eared boys on farms, I'm not sure they'd appreciate my penchant for Gainsbourg and Piaf, or even Wagner.

Anyway actually too drunk to write any more. OFF TO watch Harry Potter. Cos I'm THAT cool.