…always locate your glasses before removing contact lenses to avoid fruitless hours of searching.
That is all.

Had a fantastic evening out last night with Steve & R (Belle de Jour-esque naming I’m afraid!) – but I spent most of it on all fours and behaving like a puppy! As well as having a collar to which was attached a lead for each of my wonderful trainers, I was drinking beer out of a dog bowl, chasing toys, playing with other puppies… things puppies do really!
I’m sure this doesn’t help in portraying me as any less of a pervert, but then I don’t think anyone who really knows me thinks otherwise.
A pretty good night all in all – do pay a visit won’t you… *wags*

… it cuts your face off.
Really, can’t they think of anything better to design, like a razor that is actually able to cut through the titanium alloy like stubble that grows on my face?

Just a quicky:
There’s an advert on UK TV for the Citro뮠C2; it has a bloke walking on his hands through the streets, then getting into said car through the window but feet first. The strapline is “Use your hands for a change“.
Well, i wondered what the left hand and that sticky thing that changes gear were for…

It’s quite cold in London today; probably related to all that snow that fell last night. Have some pictures to cheer yourselves up:

More in the galleries

Not in me though, but in Steve (the boyfriend in case you’ve been too lazy to read through any of the links – you at the back, boy; pay attention). Having been phlebotomised and pricked with extract of cat for an allergy study, he’s had his dick pierced.
Yes, very much straight to the point. Having joked about it for a couple of years, things got very much more definite around yuletide when I offered to pay for it as his birthday present. Having dithered about it since then, I finally rang up the most excellent piercers Into You yesterday and booked it for him.
Off we went this evening, had an excellent piercer (a lady) who was so chatty, put you at ease, knew what she was doing, gave lots of advice – in a word – perfect. Steve was very nervous to begin with (as you would be!) but got through it (it hurts a lot – can’t imagine why…) and is now home recuperating. Worryingly he’s been told to wear panty liners in his pants to soak up any ooze, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to buy them on the way home.
Anyway, the idea is to use this blog as a sort of diary on the way to it healing up – stay tuned for more exciting episodes!

I love the English as a race and having lived abroad a fair percentage of my life so far I find it easier to step back and analyse the psyche of my nation.
There are many excellent traits they posess, such as, er… the ability to assimilate other nations and cultures at a glance. However, I want to discuss the less savoury aspects – but to be fair to the English, this mainly concerns Londoners – the rest of you can sleep easy.
When I got home this evening I found that the lighting in the communal areas leading up to our flat wasn’t working. Using my very nifty blue LED torch on my keyring (first time it’s ever been useful) got us upstairs intact. Figuring it was just an MCB (miniature circuit breaker) that had popped I trotted down to the basement electricity cupboard, reset the switch was so obviously labelled and hey presto, light was restored.
Now, it’s not this amasing ability of mine to fix trivial problems, but the fact that three other residents of our building were already home and had done nothing about it that has incensed me. I don’t hold it against them personally, I’m just using this as an example (do you see?) to illustrate my point. Which is that “oh, I won’t do it, someone else will”. I have seen this time and time again – people in need of serious medical attention stepped over in the street, a man fitting on the tube totally ignored, homeless people blanked, if you try to chat to people on public transport people think you’ve escaped from a mental asylum – the list is endless. In no other city on earth have I experienced this.
Sorry, London, you just need to be nicer.

Well, apart from the obvious answer which is “no, go away you drooling psychopath stalker” this little characture is a scarily close approximation:

If you’re still not satisfied, there are some proper photos on my real web site.
Satisfied now?