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Don’t the sun look angry at me

The equivalent weight of a packet of Chocolate Hob Nobs

This is the moment you’ve barely given a second thought.  It’s time to see the graph.  But first, what does the graph show?  What does it tell us?  It’s tells us that I’m shit at dieting.  I’ve lost a rounded-up pound since last Friday.  By rounded-up pound I mean that the little ticket the Boots weight machine prints out says I’ve lost a pound, but a quick sense check (looking at the change in weight in kilos) shows I haven’t.  I’ve lost 0.3kg.  0.66lbs.  300g.  The equivalent weight of a packet of Chocolate Hob Nobs, ironically enough an entire packet of which I’ve eaten in the past two days.  I know what you’re thinking.  I’m a useless, disgusting, greedy bollocks. Read the rest of this entry »

A large poo, Lucy Pinder, and Peter Kay

This blog will be a slightly disjointed affair, as I have several points to make; sadly none of them are of any real interest or importance. Read the rest of this entry »

That time of year again, warning pangs, and 343 days


It’s that time of year again.  Time for reflection.  Time, perhaps, for feeling guilty after the excesses of the past couple of weeks.  It’s time for a new start.  Yep, it’s time for new year’s resolutions.

But does anyone actually bother?  I get the impression that most people talk about new year’s resolutions, but few ever actually see them through to any kind of outcome. Read the rest of this entry »

Plastic Woman

HELLO all you beautiful, beautiful people.  It’s time again for another snippet of Happy Ending, preceded by a few words of explanation.

This next chapter follows on from the last snippet I posted, which in turn followed on from the first snippet I posted. Read the rest of this entry »

I'm A Big Stupid Goat

Disclaimer: I don’t hate my job. I wanted to make that point clear in case anyone I work with read my last post, or indeed happens to read this one.

As I hit ‘publish’ after writing my last blog entry, I realised something. I had described myself, with somewhat reckless abandon, as a bitter 28 year-old trapped in a career I’m not entirely happy with.

Instantly my thoughts turned to the ideas I’d already had for my next blog, where, I’d decided, I would describe the idea for my novel and specifically the main character and narrator; 27 year-old singer-songwriter and former accountant Jack Smith, who within the first three thousand words meets a beautiful glamour model who changes his life.

Read the rest of this entry »