MUSE!!!!

I see that Erin Daye has failed in her attempt at a world record. I see that forest officials (wtf is a forest official?) in Gujarat are trapping leopards with mobile phones equipped with the sounds of cows "mooing" as a ring tone. Cops in Washington DC are using segways (pursued crims will be confounding them by using stairs). England are collapsing. Rooks in Devon have learnt to fumigate themselves to kill parasites by using discarded cigarette butts. Hitchcock was right, dammit.

My Muse tickets have arrived. I have a procession of applicants and supplicants queued begging to be allowed a moment to caress the hologram. I have arrayed them according to hotness and will make an arbitrary decision in due course. This is the gig MCR will be supporting. I'm so gonna wear eyeliner. And a fishnet shirt. Mmmm...

Fucking pseudoephedrine hydrochloride has given me a savage and uncontrollable nosebleed, greatly endangering my pristine Charles Tyrwhitt 140 weave two fold (although freshly oxygenated bloodstains on this quality of cotton are a proper aphrodisiac). Gonna have to stop snorting it. My doctor wanted to give me a pseudoephedrine suppository to save my septum. To paraphrase Renton, for all the good it'll do me I might as well shove it up my arse. I chose the fucking big television and sold the script for a can of the Old Purple Tin.

Speaking of blood, blood orange juice is the best juice in the world.

FUCKING nosebleed!