Are we on holiday yet Mum?

Love life problems

Last year was a horror...........

Since i was sixteen this shoe has been the only constant........................... Last year nearly killed me,several times. My shoes went threw a lot.

8 pairs a year, at least two pairs in constant circulation.

One pair where stolen and taken to Florence before i stole them back.

One pair went to two funerals, four court hearings, three job interviews, did a weeks work in a tattoo shop and were scolded with boiling smack before being lost in a bet.

One pair were used to kick in a very posh windscreen before getting taken away when i was arrested.

The pair i'm wearing now about to die, i'm awfuly poor.

When i moved in with the Black country boys.....

I find it horribly hard to be around people that don't drink, i start to become a paranoid child like mess, asking lots of questions, being as polite as possible, longing to find the key to enlightenment. Do these people know something i don't? Are they part of a greater community with access to better living? Have they proof god exists? Has he shown them what is in store for them and their clean livers when they reach death? It will go on like this for the period of time I'm around the tee total, quickly i get more and more polite and self conscious. I find it hard to strike up conversation, i find it hard to sit still and mostly i find it hard to look the person in the eye.

I recently spent a week living with a tee total who goes by the name of Cannon and two boozers both called Mathew. I had spent a fair bit of time with both Mathews but i had only came across the water boy a couple times, this scared me a little due to the rambling above.I quickly settled and felt at home straight away. It turned out to be the most fun I'd had in a long time, spending the entire time laughing, dead drunk laughing. It never even crossed my mind that Cannon didn't booze, it didn't bother me that he doesn't booze. I was comfortable.

I was high off this thought for over a week before going to the pub with some hangover boys, one of them brought along Darren, a straight edge vegan prick who needs a good punch in the face. His stories were boring and scary, not like Cannon's warm and homely tales. Our eyes met a few times which caused a sting in my stomach, the stinging stayed for a long time causing the hate for Darren to multiple rapidly. Usually i would have humiliated Darren and probably hurt his beliefs in some way, i decided not too, i decided to ignore him and it worked. I awoke the next day with a terrible hangover but feeling proud of my new grown up approach to life. Apparently poor Darren woke up feeling no good at all, whilst walking home some horrid thug had thrown a pint of Guinness at him from a group of like minded boys he was hiding in. I guess that's Plymouth for you aye. Poor sod.

Here's some photos Mathew Worboys took whilst i was staying............

They were all over me mate........

Whilst out on the piss with the lads, Worboys got in a bit of trouble with this pair of swingers. Luckily he had his bike with him so he could give the bird a backy whilst four eyes ran alongside them. They get home and Worboys offers the pair a can of carlsburg whilst they order a curry. The curry comes, gets ate and opens a whole world of uncomfortable chit chat with gaps of awkward silence. Cut a long story short, Worboys finds himself upstairs in bed trying his best to pleasure Polly pension whilst her old man is in the cupboard holding on to his nob like it's the winning ticket at the Grand national. Worboys, doing his best to get round the track as quick as possible finds it hard to cope with the spectators support, "Go on Mathew, go on son". This leads to a poor finish from our Worboys who gets treated like a loser with a kick out of the door. No goodnight kiss for our poor sod Worboys.

Mathew Mountford is a virgin.

Mathew Mountford dribbles when he's pissed,

he can count on one hand the girls he's kissed.

I was comfy sleeping on his sofa bed,

never before has a girl seen his pencil lead.

bang a bird I'll urge him,

secretly knowing I'm actually a virgin.

Scolding hot tea, the mugs are free.

Goodbodys is a twenty four hour cafe on mutley plain in Plymouth and it's amazing. I've spent plenty of time in there at six in the morning after a night dancing with goths down JFK's. I won't give too much away because i want to make a piece of art about Goodbodys but what i will say is if you go there you HAVE to steal one of there mugs, it's an age old rule. I've seen people putting them down there pants, hiding them in a rolled up jumper or in they're birds handbag, i nearly laughed myself to death when a certain Northern naughty boy ran out with a full mug of scolding hot tea. These mugs plus a Yorkshire tea bag will make your blood run blue just like it should. Rule Britannia, stay proud, long live the hangover hotel and DEadByTHiRty.

£2.79p peek a boo.

It won't be long now, opening night yet to be confirmed as the venue i picked has been overbooked. Thanks to Artwaun for the funding and thanks to Plymouth Gin for the free happiness. The hangover is for The Drip Trays, long live foever at sea and deAdBYthIrty.

Sleeping rough, i hope Jo aint up the duff.

I refuse to take part in anything bmx related, i hate it, all of it. It makes me sick to my stomach. Other things make me sick too, i'm regulary sick due to the amount of alchohol i like to consume. Saturday was one of those occasions, one of the worst my body has been threw. I was sick for nearly the whole day and mostly out of a window of a mini bus traveling seventy miles an hour up the motorway. I was on the way to a bmx event, no fucking wonder i was being sick, my body was trying it's best to keep my mind from thoughts of suicide. It was'nt until my head cleared that i rememberd who i was with and everything turned from grey to green, Plymouth Argyle green. I was'nt going to a bmx event, i was going to the pub with the lads. Fuck Stephen Murray i'd die for Steven Pope.




Fat, little nautical man.



Chubby sick little mess,
funny when naked no less.


Too scared to have a bath,
using himself to get a laugh.


Fry ups, booze, fish and chips,
look at the size of those hips.

Orders beer aswell as gin,
guilt, anxiety and moral sin.

Never learn though, way too thick,
tummy filled with multi coloured sick.

Jo was ere.

Jo was ere, did'nt like it much though cuz Sam's queer,
"he'll be a virgin for life due to std fear".

I don't blame him though she was rough,

she told plenty a story about getting up the duff.


Sam just ran away from a bird with kids,
his pants are still fresh with skids.


He managed to pull Jo, i'll give him that,
anyone else would need ten pints of black rat.


Her mate was just as bad,
good job our sexy Lee is a proper lad.


Oh shit, wait, he only lasted a minute,
"I gotta get home for the kids now innit".

"I did'nt have a rubber and you need one with girls like that."

Laidler climbs the ladder of Swilly's sweat hearts.

Sexy Lee shows Sam his scrap book of girls he has entertained, Sam gets pissed off as he spots a picture of his Mum.

Showers are for flowers.

Chris Evans snuck onto the bus and into my heart, true Plymouth showed him to his seat.





I'm not saying your gay like Sam but those bracelets make my mind race,
you won't pull any chicks four eyes face.


I love you Dominic but you had a shower,
real boys don't do that flower.


A spair pair of shoes can be quite slick,
a shower and a clean t-shirt makes you a prick.

Sleeping in the same bed as the bad man was a wise move,
it makes you being gay easier to prove.

You could'nt resist the hairy chest,
i'm surprised you did'nt organise this sausage fest.

Nightmare.

Rendal's at the back of the bus being naughty,
every stop we make he pulls a Mum of forty.

You can hear him from a mile off,
he got in a fight and was sick on a goth.

He's a mad man on the pull,
he thinks everyone on the bus is dull.

One pint, two pint, three pint more,
not a man in the room he could'nt floor.

He can't control himself when he's out,
not a minute goes by without a shout.

I could'nt never be that loud,
he's a one man storm cloud.