In an attempt to finally write something -- three years after leaving university to become a literary giant -- I've decided to start a blog. If blogging history has taught me anything, and it hasn't, then this will be my one and only entry.
See, lots of Facebook friends start blogs. It's the thing to do. Most don't get past a single burst of inspiration: there's lots of chest thumping followed by two minutes of work ending as quickly as it started.
A bit like sex.
Some stick it out longer, blog a few times before losing interest and putting on Match of the Day while the blog phones her friends to discuss your small penis.
A bit like...
Anyway. Blogs. Mostly this will be about my inability to raise children. Specifically, my child, codename: Bug. I'd be surprised if the blog didn't also touch on popular culture. As in:
DEREK: Have you seen the new Tarantino flick? Stunning!
ME: Fuck you Derek! Fuck you and your capitalised name. I've not been to the cinema in 15 long months! What do you want to discuss next, my tiny wee penis?
And so on.
But mostly Bug. Bug and the missus, codename: Bear.
1: A cause of obsessive fear, anxiety, or irritation.
So yes. This is my first blog. It could also be my last. Let's see how things go.
The fucking cat, codename: bastard. All it ever does is shove its ass in my face like it's a two bit whore wanting me to pop a pouch of Felix down its pants. Fuck you cat. And fuck you alliteration.
I'm likely to swear quite a bit on here. Since Bug was born, I don't swear at home. Instead I stutter as a way of finding a word that isn't the swear I was about to say: 'George Osborne is a right c-c-c-c-c-coconut.'