  As you may or may not be able to see, I have resorted to typing with some capital letters for a start... and whenever imagination permits, I shall have a good title to use for my blog entries. It's six in the morning and I have been up since, well, eleven am yesterday. I can tell you what I did not do: view pornography (and related exercise), play Tony Hawk, have more than five mugs of coffee (actually, three instant teh tarik drinks), try keepie-uppie, or even spend my time reading a whole slew of BBC programme essays and Wikipedia articles. Perfectly healthy hobbies, really, if you don't attempt them too early and too often. Coffee is a diuretic. Pornography has spawned everything from rapists to perverts. And Wikipedia is making every Netizen an American, one at a time; what a fucking good ploy.
I'll just eat a shortbread. It's quite hard typing with capitals for a change; partly because things look "cooler" when it's all small letters, and partly because I'm just too damn lazy. It's the "style" of the cool cats who dip their philosophical brush in the politics bucket and aerate their ears with the, um, dragon's-breath sound of Radiohead synths. Neither of which I do to justify continuing typing in small letters. I am still, however, a fucking lazy butthole. Oh, seven o'clock. And then a couple of tuna sandwiches, and then a mug of milk or sparkling red juice if we have it, and the sound of ice boulders as they drop and clink the sparkling glass to dramatic effect (currants... mmm), and then off I drift with the marlins as we annoy the prawns, and where the currents are always warm.
(I'm not talking about peeing onto my hand, it's - um - something deep and abstract that you losers will never ever get. MUAHAHAHAHA! ) And penguins... I'll get to them one day. 
