The RAC is watching you

See. I told you. It was very hard to get this picture as it is forbidden to photograph RAC structures as they do not officially exist. I risked my life to get this pic, even me, the founder of the Revolutionary Army of Crackers. That's how well trained the RAC is, and absolutely committed to abolition of the flawed concept of leadership as set out in my incontrivertable doctrines. I know, I'm an idiot. Plus GROUPTHINK renders committee governance pointless too so how does anything get decided or done?

Just do it!

Or alternatively don't fucking bother. Either is good. It really doesn't matter. I could count my actual followers on the fingers of one hand....of Django Rheinhart. Oh look it up. I pobably spelt it wong anywaz.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I've been so bad today. I finally totally snapped. It finally got to me. Today there was what appeared to be a big tyre fire somewhere in east Manc and I went on to the big deserted car park at sport city and watched the flames occassionally emerging from the thick black smoke blowing north-west, luckily. It's ok, I've got a cast iron alibi but it was certainly mesmeric watching the clenched fists rapidly rising and turning and dissipating. Actually strangely calming as well as slightly frightening. This odd little spell started and ended in flames. What a horrid few weeks it's been.

The straw that broke the poor Camel's back was simply losing a reciept to be attached to an invoice i had to submit today. Naturally a small folded peice of paper is the easiest thing in the world to lose but looking it for it made me very angry and very late and I never even found it despite having at some point last week, treated it like a very important object. Seriously, it completely ruined my day, throwing everything off balance and making all my interactions with other people rather askew as most of my brain was trying to solve this very frustrating problem. It was already getting dark by the time acceptance finally freed me from this awful curse. It's gone. The very worst that will happen is that I won't get my £12.50 Key cutting bill repaid and I'll look a bit of a twat but hey what's new? I look a bigger twat from actually trying to go about my business with this evil cloud above me. Aw shit.

Funnily enough though, it's not the only time I've had a day fucked up by a seemingly insignificant little peice of paper. Hee hee.

Chances are it stayed in a pocket and got washed into destruction or was discarded along with other pocket kipple. While I was looking for it, a form turned up I'd made someone resend because I swore I'd never got it. That wasn't all my fault this time but it's me who ends up having to say sorry again and looking a prick. How do these things happen? Who's doing this to me and why? Presumably to drive me nuts. The only precedent I can think of is Audrey Tatou in the film Amelie. I'd better not have one of those bitches in here. I'll have to put poison down and that's something I never do. Who am I kidding? I'd love it if Audrey Tatou payed me any attention, if only to torture me psychologically.

You may notice I put a content warning up. I think that obliges me to say more horrid things. Fetid Badger Shitecakes!

OOOOH - copy out the dog story from The Private Eye - later. Ref to Heidi.