There are some who believe the April Fuel's Day jape that HMV are blacking out all products with anything Christian on the cover.
Yay! Less offensive Religious Figures and more of those unoffensive Nudie Huge-Chested Bra-Busting Bikini Zombie Japanese Schoolgirl Nympho Ninja Chanbara Strippers Covered In Guts And Gore. or something.
But HMV do appear to have prohibited the stockage of mystical bollocks.
For, like the now legendary MoreTh>n Hairnet, I have been hunting high and low in all the HMVs for a copy of Silent Hill Downpour, for I has a £20 credit to use in-store.
Downpour I got, in the deluge from the heavens!
But not spooky suspensefulness, for it seems HMV are not a-stocking scary supernatural stuff of a fogbound nature.
Five days I've tramped through the drizzle, seeking out both shops.
Not a sausage.
Which is a good thing, as I wasn't looking for sausages, but the mound of Silencio.
Still, it's an excuse for a leer at Cam in the HMV opposite the market.
On top of that, ALL my umbrollies have upped and had it away on their metaphysical equivalent of water repellant toes.
And my JCL isn't compiling into OPC because they've moved it into Endevor and 'Someone' forgot to compile their changes, so I have to re-do all their recompiles to get my 1 job to work, and they have a milllion (well, 15 or so) sets of JCL in at least 2 different stages.
And I'm being nagged to do that thing I already did, but it didn't register, so now I gots to do it all again, and I have Other Priorities. Naggity nag nag nag!
And everyone's picking on me! Here, there, everywhere - pickety pick pick pick!
But at least I'm not under threat of being stabbed up now (coz I won't go out no more, for feat of homo-chave knifings).
But on the plus side, I've just scoffed the best treacle tart ever!
I'd prefer a tart covered in treacle, but you can't have your cake and eat it.
Which makes the possession of cake redundant, as the whole point of having your cake is to eat it. Not have your cake and sit staring at it as it goes all mouldy, spewing out maggoty worms before calcifying into a cake shaped rock sufficient only for the Mythbusters to fire out of a rocket.
Although, as creampies go, I'd rather fire my rocket up gothic romantic Mythbuster Byron!
