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3rd December 2020


Yeah, I managed to get a bloody cold.

You know those really bad head colds you get, where it feels like ev'ry 'ole on yer face is just glued shut? That's me the past couple o' days. I got pretty bad Snout Lurgy.

So anyway, I braved a trip out to the shop to get some supplies, even though me entire face is pretty much just a portable snot factory. I felt like bloody Swamp Thing but I managed to fill me basket with all the fings I needed - you know, chicken soup, Lemsip, paracetamol, lager, all the usual remedies.

So far so good, I thought - but then I got to the checkout and who's workin' there but my bloody ex-girlfriend.

"Oh hey, Doc. You keepin' well?"

I looked at Minnie with me leakin' face and snuffle-muttered somethin', tryin' to sound nonchalant.

Look, I ain't too interested in her at the moment, if you know what I mean. Some fings're better left in the past, and all that. I ain't pinin' over 'er. But still, you know 'ow it is. If you bump into yer ex you wanna look like you're doin' well. You don't wanna look like you turned into a snivellin' pathetic wreck since she last saw you.

Well, wotever. I kept me composure, paid for all me fings, and squelched back 'ome.

Turns out I forgot me Lemsip at the checkout, and I'm buggered if I'm goin' back. I'm just gonna hunker down in front of the box and drink chicken soup out of a mug bigger than me 'ead.

Is it normal to 'ave a usual 'sick day movie'? The film you always watch when you feel like absolute arse? Mine's Scarface. I fink it might be time.

~Doc





24th November 2020


God, I should probably explain this.

I asked Ash to redo this bloody website, because it looks like what would happen if you took acid and frolicked through a Battenberg factory. She gave me a funny look, of course, when she saw it.

Look, I ain't one of those tech blokes, alright? I ain't know my way around code too well. Anyone who's met me before would be able to tell you that.

'Owever, I do think I ought to point out one pretty bloody salient point, which is that I didn't actually make this layout meself.

That's right, I enlisted the help of me ol' mate Hampstead, who runs a web design agency in Chunterford called Web Anchor, or W-Anchor for short. I thought he'd appreciate a bit o' business, so I had him do up a blog for me.

He's an interestin' ol' sod, I'll give 'im that - and maybe not in a good way. He's one of those people who's dun a million fings and left more jobs than most people have heard of.

When I met 'im, he was workin' as a crime scene cleaner. I don't mean like Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction, I mean just like a bloke with rubber gloves and a big bucket who has to go to places where 'orrible fings have 'appened and sort out the mess.

It's one o' those jobs that basic'ly goes either way, in terms of the people who do it. A lot of people come out of it as sweet and humble people who can see that there ain't no point givin' yourself airs an' graces because at the end of the day, we're really all just meat sacks held together with raspberry jam, know what I mean?

Well, Hampstead went the other way. 'E could walk into a room out of yer worst nightmares and 'ave a little chuckle to himself and go "cor bloody 'ell, this is gonna take some fuck'in' Persil, know wot I mean? Hahahaha."

I don't fink 'e's all there, to be quite honest, but he was doin' a job somebody 'as to do, and that's that. A mate's a mate, and you gotta kick yer made a bit o' work when 'e starts up a web design agency.

I don't fink 'e really knows how websites work.

~Doc