Friday, February 24, 2006

No Rest For The Wicked

I’m guessing I must have been a Roman Legionary in Jerusalem around 32 AD. A bit over keen with my spear perhaps. A bit too “proddy” for my own good. I am being punished for previous biblical scale crimes too heinous to mention.

I am destroyed today. Knackered beyond the bounds of reason.

I couldn't find clean trousers, shampoo, a hair brush, a tooth brush or my ass with both hands and a stick attached to butt seeking radar.

And yet, I am stupid enough to be sat here editing Aberdeen podcasts when I am so damn tired and weary that I'm incapable of even the most rudimentary conversation. I’m just sat here with my headphones on looking like shit (sorry
Andy (the poor beggar I sit opposite) and Paul (who's trying to coordinate the Scottish and the guys at Stoke).

I shouldn't have come in today. No amount of coffee will save me.

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