I’m sorely disappointed at the lack of ‘here’s what I learned when Trump was shot’ posts on LinkedIn. Self-obsessed blowhard bros ain’t even trying anymore.
OK, time for bed. Time to sleep the sleep of the righteous. Who am I kidding? I’ll be up three times for a piss and spend the rest of the night listening to the wind and rain against my bedroom window, wondering how long until I have to get up for work.
Cycled to work today, the ninth day of July, and got wet, and got gold, and got an overwhelming desire to get a taxi to the airport and board the next plane out to somewhere with real weather. Anyone want to join me?
It’s been nice here today, plenty of sunshine with a slight breeze (great drying weather), so the met office have issued a heavy rain warning for tomorrow because we’re not allowed nice things.
I don’t think people who live in the Mediterranean would believe you if you tried to tell them that the temperature in Ireland during July is in single digits. The Romans called it Hibernia (Land of Winter) and they weren’t joking.
My job is pretty good and the pay is half decent so how the fuck do I only have €10 left until I get paid again in 17 days? Oh, that’s right, I have teenage kids.
I’ve been invited to join a Facebook group called Speak Out Against Psychiatry which aims to ‘end psychiatric diagnosis’. I had a look at the recent posts and can confirm that it appears to be populated entirely by people who would benefit from proper psychiatric diagnosis and treatment.
My gammony Facebook friends are having a bit of a melty today. Apparently they’ll be murdered in their beds by illegals before the year is out, and those that manage to live through the purge will have no pension, because Starmer will have given the money to (you’ve guessed it) illegals.
