It's just another Wenky Wadnesday

I've wanted to play about and do one of these shots before but probably didn't do it 'right'. Took three shots, couldn't figure out overlaying or whatever so just cut and paste the me figure into the original. Right? Wrong? Who really cares anyway? Not me. The significance is I often feel even cloning three of me wouldn't satisfy the office need for tea being made and phones being answered.

(I took this briefly in my own lunchtime as well)

I have to tax my car later today. Last time I performed this task was February 2007 when I taxed my ex's little 1ltr Peugeot which cost something like £60 for six months. Today the robbing bastards that run our country want £125 off me for the same period! How on earth is that fair? I may drive a 2 litre GTI but I only do about 100 miles a week and yet they charge me the same for the school run middle classes in Chelsea Tractors. There should be some concession for usage. It's not lie they use my money to mend the roads anyway otherwise I wouldn't have had to fork out £100 for new springs the other day. Grrrrrrrr.

When I awoke this morning getting out of bed wasn't just a chore, it wasn't just an effort it was actually a fully fledged mission. My eyes opened, my body gently reminded them that sleep time should last until 10am, my head responded by telling my body it had no choice and the whole of me just stumbled about the house a little disorientated wondering what the hell was happening. Two bowls of home branded Honey Nut Flakes and a couple of pints of milky tea and the correlation returned. Still not looking forward to tomorrow morning as I believe these new enemies will be goading each other once again.

Got to love Wednesday evenings though: The Apprentice. One of the few programmes to show a spark of creativity in an otherwise completely indifferent landscape of bland shows and moronic presenters. Alan Sugar really is a bastard: I love him. Not literally obviously too much facial hair (although a little less than one of my exs who also had hairy toes: bad time to find out? Half way through bumping uglies) and one too many penises. Karren Brady? Nope. Powerful women scare me. Like cliff faces, or Cliff Richard.

Well I suppose I'd better go throw half a weeks wages at the taxman. He hit me in income tax, I put petrol in my car and he takes a slice and now the faceless leech just wants a handout for me to put my wheels on the tarmac. Not only that but if I drove something wank like a KA or a 1 litre Fiesta / Roller Skate they'd want less. How is that giving people something to aspire to? As a society we are basically saying 'buy a rubbish car with the power of a hairdryer and save money'.... great. What next? Live in a box under a motorway flyover and pay no council tax: your choice.

Balls to the government. Balls to taxes. Yay to the Anarchists Cookbook.

I want an adventure. I have a week off in July. Someone suggest an adventrue, preferably in this country (I almost deliberately omitted the 'o' there to get my point across but thought better of it. I may swear but thats one word I don't use. The other is Gr*msby.)