Congratulations to all of you for sticking by my blog like slugs under a compost bin lid and religiously reading and re-reading my musings, maybe now it’ll sink in. I’ve nothing to say to you… Shouting into the fog, or rather damp air at this time of year, while Europe burns, England and possibly Wales are pissed on by a persistently lazy weather front which insists on staying put like a spoilt 6 year old, just sitting in its room whinging. But you, my petit choufleurs (cauliflowers) have remained resolute in your ridiculous faith in my blog, hoping that one day, it may well bring clarity to this cesspit we inhabit.

Thanks for that, I love you all, not carnally.

But what have you been up to O lord and Count of North Clifton? And why have you been ignoring our pleas, our cries for recognition?

Being a cult leader, pretending to not be running a cult, whilst working a full time job for the man, while also trying to work out how to start his own job and not be so reliant on cult membership and crockery merchandise and fridge magnets is playing on my mind and so I’ve been down to London to indoctrinate my child into the world of hard work and premature adulthood, prowling the streets of Stoke Newington and record shops of Soho. My son, is my insurance should I completely fail to make anything of myself while I try to make something of myself whilst not concentrating on actually making anything of myself, which of course, by now, all of you lot, not brainwashed into my Cult, will be fully aware that I’m well on my way to achieving. 

What can I say? Some of us are do’ers, and some of us just talk about it all the time, complaining about it all.

Having said that I did walk about 50 miles over 4 days around London avoiding the tube due to it being wretched in the hot weather, and visited some museums, record shops, pubs for a stray pint hither and thither and many a bench to watch the world go by whilst shouting at pedestrians.