A concerned armpit

Where has it gone?

Once my life seemed to be awash with opportunities to write. I wrote letters, and songs, and even directionless rambles. When I sat down in front of my keyboard or with my guitar, I felt a need to talk, a need to share my thoughts with the world. I felt that things needed to be said, lest they be lost forever.

Nowadays, I don’t get that anymore, and I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Clearly I no longer have the same fear that the product of my creativity will be lost forever. Which is nice. But it is nice to have songs, letters, directionless rambles, which can immortalise these thoughts forever and provide me with an archive.

This thought tails away.

Holiday Photos

Lake District

Karen and I arrived back from the Lake District yesterday. I’ve made a photo diary for you to peruse.

There are 32 images, and the whole thing weighs about 3MB.

To begin, click here.

*Originally posted here*



I just vacuum’d up one of Karen’s stockings.

I was doing man-hoovering. In order to save time and energy, I avoided the need to move things (shoes, clothes etc) out of the way by just pushing them to the edge of the room with the snout of the vacuum cleaner as I progressed.

However, some things evidently don’t get pushed by an assertive appliance, but prefer to give in to its powerful wiles, spreading their arms and allowing themselves to be smothered in its awesome bulk, feeling the erotic powerlessness of submission to their mighty Master.

Wow. Arousing stuff.

I delicately extracted the stocking from the mouth of the beast, and it seems to be in one piece, though a little dusty.

Let’s see how soon she notices.

*Originally posted here*

Displeasure Poetry


I’ll pop down to the gym,
To do my exercise,
I aim to help my biceps,
Achieve a larger size.

But a man upon the chest press,
Warrants more inspection,
He isn’t doing exercise,
But reading the Arts section!

Piss off, you utter tit,
Your behaviour is obscene,
Can’t you read the notices?
Rest away from the machine!