Apathy UK

Chasing the Forsaken Lizard... Just had a slight relapse. I'll say no more on the matter other than it is always a great relief to struggle through the days of inertia and melancholy and stumble, moaning and groaning, into a flowing meadow of windswept grass topped off with a glowing globe of goodness. That's how I feel right now, having misbehaved, dabbled, failed to contact the pusher-man (who, incidentally, spent two nights locked-up), quit, ached, shat and puked uncontrollably for about three days and nights and suffered such terrible disenchantment that if I actually had had any hot water in the house, I would have drawn myself a bath and let the crimson flow. Of course not, but these are the species of thoughts that you have no choice but to entertain. Came out of the funk yesterday, helped in no small part by a certain Argy Bird who is, thank the gods, a bundle of fun! I have read everything that there is to be read in the flat over the last five days of bed-ridden intol...

So, here I am at Budapest airport. Far from a happy travellor - because the fucking bastards that are WIZZAIR, with whom I bought, in good faith, a flight to Sofia, have clearly decided that there are far from adequate numbers of fellow muppets with whom to fill a plane. Therefore we find ourselves, stirred by Cris's Yorkshie character, revolting against the system. The very fact that there is no way that any of us, even en mass, could ever cause the owners to be woken from their beds to address said sorry situation, seems to escape everyone. Instead, we are all up in arms and moaning. What is interesting is that the British are clearly the beast moaners by a mile. The Hungarians, Bulgarians, the odd Frenchie all mean well, fed by a distinct lack of appreciation of the deal they have made, but still their complaints lack exact direction and fall, as they all do, on blind ears. And deaf. There is clearly nothing to be done. We are petty irrelevancies, figures on a spreadsheet that w...

Happiness is Togetherness, champagne, water and a small fish. 

Charlotte making last minute repairs to her outfit, by the sea.  

Tomat looking a bit like a triplely hard bastard gangsta, by the sea.  

Bruce laughing at his own joke (again), by the sea.  

Dan and pizza slice, getting to know each other.  

2 hours and one pizza slice before "I do!"  

3 hours and half a speech before 'ching,ching'!  

"Hey, hey man, stay away from the slice. Ah-Huh."  

2 hours are not enough for him to get dressed.  

Rock chick slash KGB seductress look. Ahem.  

"Look, I'm so calm and collected, I can't do my shoelaces!"  

Nice belt-shoe coordination going on there.  

Very dapper Stu. Just one thing, that's my suit mate!  

"Say 'Nibblesome-cheesey-bits!'"  

'Didn't lose the rings. Good. Ten minutes to finish speech. Not so good. Hat. Impeccable.'  

Unfortunately, despite his muppetry, you have to credit Tomat on his timing....  

The Artful Dodger at age 27.  

Ollie emerging from the jungle, a la Predator.