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I don’t want to be even a bit forgiven. I’ve been very naughty and I deserve punishment. Especially my liver. That’s been the naughtiest.

What is it with the mugshots just recently? There’s Ms Gooners I keep trying to complain about and now Ms Rainbowbright has put one up of herself in a suicide hanging bid pose. Such beautiful girls usually.

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You lot should try hoovering.

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Touch. Long time. Why have you still got that picture up?

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Surströmming to you too.

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Who are these people popping in to say how rubbish it is and how much better they are because they don’t post all the time? Name names, Ms Gooner. I’ll shun them. Except Catz. I’m not shunning Catz. Catz is one of the unshunnables.

[pikey]

Iceland have just about called the receivers in. Even their leader has all but admitted they are sunk. They’re headed back to their fish pickling middle ages and a billion squid is going to make no difference at all. Now, if you’re a creditor to a liquidising concern, you don’t send that concern back the stuff you hold of theirs on the off-chance they’ll pull through – you take it in lieu of payment. The government are purely acting in the national interest, as they should.

What I want to know is where all this extra cash of the councils came from. Haven’t we been told over and over again that things were tight, services had to be cut and council tax had to go ever higher?

[pikey]

Good God. Fancy taking the Brown as your template. The man is obviously a money-fevered cretin. There can be no other explanation. I’d shun him and his works, if I were you. What’s with that new photo of yours? I like the other ones better. Anyroadup:

The notion was to cut a crude V into the sprawl of the city, to vandalise dormant energies by an act of ambulant signmaking. To walk out from Hackney to Greenwich Hill, and back along the River Lea to Chingford Mount, recording and retrieving the messages on the walls, lampposts, doorjambs: the spites and spasms of an increasingly deranged populace. (I had developed this curious conceit while working on my novel Radon Daughters: that the physical movements of the characters across their territory might spell out the letters of a secret alphabet. Dynamic shapes, with ambitions to achieve a life of their own, quite independent of their supposed author. Railway to pub to hospital: trace the line on the map. These botched runes, burnt into the script in the heat of creation, offer an alternative reading – a subterranean, preconscious text capable of divination and prophecy. A sorcerer’s grimoire that would function as a curse or a blessing.)

Iain Sinclair ~ Lights Out For The Territory

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Boyd’s a first class wanker. He should be shunned for what he’s done.

Norway are a pretty tidy side and Scotland were very unlucky, I thought. There’s plenty more points to be had and I think both sides will be in for a runners up spot witha couple of games to go.

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You should find a copy a read it, Ms Gooner. If you stick with it, it will cure you of Dan Brown forever.

[pikey]

That was when I saw the Pendulum.
The sphere, hanging from a long wire set into the ceiling of the choir, swayed back and forth with isochronal majesty.
I knew – but anyone could have sensed it in the magic of that serene breathing – that the period was governed by the square root of the length of the wire and by π, that number which, however irrational to sublunar minds, through a higher rationality binds the circumference and diameter of all possible circles. The time it took the sphere to swing from end to end was determined by an arcane conspiracy between the most timeless of measures: the singularity of the point of suspension, the duality of the plane’s dimensions, the triadic beginning of π, the secret quadratic nature of the root, and the unnumbered perfection of the circle itself.

Umberto Eco ~ Foucault’s Pendulum

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