Sometimes I find an old bit of writing or other stupid shit that I’ve done and decide that –while I may be embarassed by my general body of work before this blog– there were a few gems tucked away in an otherwise unreadable mess of colloquialisms and poor attempts to ape the style of Seanbaby,
This particular stroke of genius was originally written on the 11th of September, 2008.
Just when you thought I couldn’t turn my half-arsed hand to any other trade, I endeavoured to become a weekend plasterer.
After a heavy night on the sauce a falling out was had, the outcome being a big, fuck-off hole as exhibited in fig.A:
So, while most everyone else lost their god damn mind worrying about the deposit and such, I sprang into action and took a trip to the ironmongers, who as it turns out also sell plaster and shit.
Danny and I returned, tools of destruction at hand, and proceeded to service the account as follows:
Short of a lick of paint, I think we can all agree that I did a fucking fantastic job, given that I had no experience, a fraction of a plasterer’s resources and a bobble-headed twat for an assistant.
Don’t believe me? Just ask myself… (Editor’s Note: Check out my svelte, fucking crackhead figure. Ah, to be 20 again.)