What's the story, morning lurgy...

Started late last night. Sniffley sneeze sneeze cough. Then...

♪ Woke up this mornin' feelin' shite
There's somethin' special on tonight

But me throat is blocked and I can barely breathe

Something tells me Xym might be stayin' in! ♫

But noes - stagger into the freshness of fresh air! Hit, hit, hit, hit the City!

And now I'm as chipper as chips in a chipping machine in a chippy destines to be oralised with mayo in a hot babes cakehole!

So:
Babysham from Xmas - check
Black Cherry Sidekick - check
Vanilla Coke and Vanilla Cream Soda - check
Popcorn - check
Bag of old olde sweeties - check
Bag of Swizzle lollies - che.. fuck that! They're staying at home for ME!
Packets of popping candy for poon based fun with explosive contact on labial lubricant - check.

Sorted!

Chest/nuts roasting on an open fire...

Ah, awaken to the lovely woody scent of smokey Xym's barnet!

For following a night of being seated around a veritable furnace as dead-of-night branch snapping foragers of firewood fuel the fire and fan the flames, one tends to get somewhat hot under the collar.

Although that could be down to the hotties hovering around the heated hole.

or something.

Anyhoo, attendance at BBQ almost never came about, as they forgot about The Xym!

Outrage. Someone actually forgot about The Xym! Left me all alone at home, all tarted up, and they forgots me! Me! Of all peoples to forgets - ME!

How very dare they!

Still, I gots there in the end, ferried by a flatulent ferryman to feast my eyes on hot babes belly on tough leathey lumps of cold, blackened mystery meat and the most exquisite cheesecake!

Although, now that I'm bushing out me tash (instead of the spindly thing it was before), I do tend to end up with cream all embedded in me 'tashe, which is inconvenient - but a handy bird puller at parties. probably.

"Snog me - my 'tashe is filled with cake!"

And all ladies love cake!

Inflateable tic-tac-Cameltoe...

Well!

Last Night - Housewarmage, and a trip by public transportation o'er to t'other side o t'city.

Bonus - 2 of mah Starbucks Serving Wenches aboard!

Downside - where to get off (with the Pretties, Xym, with the Pretties...).

"You need to geroff at the allotments".
"Them's not allotments. They be hedges.!
"Well, there's allotments on the other side. You'd see 'em if you were riding atop the omnibus"

Ah well...

Much beverage of inebriation consumption and general carousement, and much mirth of Jam.

Toe Jam.

Camel Toe Jam.

Not to mention BendyDick CumUp'ErSnatch cuCUMber-patch cucumber shaped dildo.

or something.

We wuz drinked - wotchoo expect!

And that's my excuse for being blind. Not only do I look rough because of my tired eyes, they's so half-lidded though sleep deprivation and booze I can't see the Pretties.

Trust me - I can see the Pretties!

No Xym, you can't see what they see in you.

Buts I do - it's fear and revulsion and a-fleeing for the nearest exit!

I hate big butts on my phone doth lie...

Grrrr!

Having been let down on the Wraithage, I ended up at a house partay.

Now, The Xym was fine to start with - on the sofa, easy interraction with Friends 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5.

Then Strangers arrive. No problem, we at one end of the room, Strangers¹ at t'other.

Then The Xym made the fatal mistake of making a lavatorical trip, upon which some long haired lout dived into my seat!

So, upon my return, I was forced further towards Ye Strangers, and sat betwixt amigos 1 & 2. Still no problem, as I can chat with them, and scowl at the seat stealing scumbag manhandling my jacket still on the chairarm.

Then, oh then, more Strangers arrived, and immediately cut me off from the other group, leaving me with 1 known acquaintance... talking to The Strangers about stuff The Xym cannot contribute to.

And not only am I slowly being outsted from my safe circle of friends, the new long haired lout decided the chair arm is the perfect place to perch his posterior.

And my iPod and iPhone are in the pockets. Potential cracking from arse crack pressure.

And now The Xym is in a most uncomfortable situation. For those who know The Xym are pretty much aware that The Xym doesn't do social interraction with people he doesn't or barely know. If he's out of his comfort zone of compadrés, he gets in a panic and has to perform the now legendary Make His Excuses And Leave.

Although with out the making excuses bit, just sneaking off into the night.

I did make an effort! I interjected at one point and got such a look of "who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you talking about you twat" distain, I immediately gave up and retreated to the safety of the kitchen.

Ah, the buffet! Spend a while snacking on Doritos.

When who should come in, but the seat thief, who promptly nicked the Doritos and snaffled off with them for himself in the living room!

Ousted from my seat!
Robbed of snacks!
Manarse pressing down precariously all over my fragile electronic devices and potentially shitting all over me jacket!
Unable to rejoin Xym's circle of safety from stranger socialisation!

Well, The Xym had no choice but to sneak out and leg it away from The Fear Of Having To Speak To Unknown Others.

Perhaps I should rethink this trip to Resistanz in Sheffield. If I can't has the breakfast amidst acquaintances and have to sit with Other People and have to interract with them... perhaps I should rethink going out in general, especially with mass "social gatherings".

¹ APART FROM ONE PRETTY, WHO I KINDA KNOW-ISH. AND A WELL HOT PRETTY WHO I THINK MAY BE THE BABE DOWN THE CORRIDOR AT WORK, ALTHOUGH I COULD BE WRONG.

Be sure to wear, some pretzels in your hair...

I fear I may have more than embarrassed meself last night!

Started off well - got to the City, and the barbabe in the Coats & Whore's Ears used her fanny magnet to draw me off route and quaff ye mulled cider.

Blissfully warm, I arrived, and presented with a shot of sloe gin, before kicking back with a bottle of Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum!

After almost half a bottle of neat rum, it was time to pep it up a bit. So, to take the firey edge off, some Dr Pepper mixer was added.

And then my Polish Pretty arrived, and instead of the expected sensual scrotal stimulation, a half glass of potent Polish Zubrowka vodka was added.

And then Conor McLoud of the clan Angry Penis insisted that I top it up with a shot of sloe gin!

And Hey Pesto! Instant Nail Varnish Remover!

Things got somewhat messy after that!

And they said I was pissed - it wasn't me who thought it would be a good idea to turn my Xmassy Barnett into a game of Ker'Plunk!. Feck knows what they used for marbles...

...yikes! So THAT's what Polish Pretty was up to in me trousers!¹

Despite the impressive drunken status, I feel fine today, although my legs are still a bit inebriated. I put it down to the meandering walk that got me home. Eventually. Bloody council, I know they've taken to turning the street lights off at night, but do they really need to keep moving the pavements about?

Honestly, what's the point of randomly switching pavements and roads - not to mention having walls on springs that unexpectedly jump out at you? And they wonder why the economy is up the shitter!

¹ #WISHFULTHINKING

I've noticed you around...

SOME people just can't keep their mouths shut!

Remember last week, when I ran afoul of Pretties by making them feel all beautiful by praising them over others, and it didn't go down too well?

Well, actually, she didn't go down at all.

or something.

Anyhoo. Last night, I'm with some Pretties, and for some reason ending up discussing the Prettyness of other pretties.

So, The Xym was honest, this time! Because last time I pandered to Pretties egos, they gots a strop on.

Thankfully not a strap on. Unless it's with one of the other Pretties in some Vagitarian banquet.

or something.

Anyhoo, one particular Pretty said something about something... oh, that was it!

We were talking about how peoples names get mixed up in me head, into some pervatorical similarity, eg Hell, I'd-Bone-Her Carter instead of Helena Bonham Carter.

Now, The Xym does like many a Pretty, and sometimes people don't understand how I like Her, or Her, or how I could possibly like Her when she's as ugly as!

Anyhoo, that's how we ended up discussing the attractiveness of nearby Pretties, and inadvertently mentioned a couple of Hot Hot Hot types, and one extremely steamy Hot Hot Hot mega Pretty.

And of course, my companion assessor decided to grass me up to the sexy siren!

Great. Yet another Pretty what's going to think I fancy the pants off her¹, and avoid me like the plague whilst arranging further duffings up from boyfriends/husbands.

Come to think of it... you know how The Xym is often singled out for a threatening for no reason at clubs & gigs? I reckon thems yobbos are all boyfriends/husbands of babes who've been told that I'm ogling them up!

All becomes clear!

Well, I'm not telling no-one of my admirations no more! All I gets is double crossing trecherous betrayals of confidence!

Not that I actually fancy her²

or Her²

or even Her²

or even extremely steamy Hot Hot Hot mega Pretty³

but definately not Her, Her, Her or That<sup>4

2</sup> HA! AS IF YOU DON'T, XYM! WHAT? DON'T "SHHHHHH" ME, YOU GREAT FAT OAF! YOU'RE LYING TO YOURSELF, YOU TART! FFS XYM - YOU'RE SINGLE, YOU'RE ALLOWED TO ADMIRE PRETTIES. YOU JUST HAVE TO STOP WHEN YOU GET ONE OF YOUR OWN!

² OH, XYM, YOU LIAR!

³ GIVE IT UP, XYM, YOU LECHEROUS OAF!

⁴ URGH! OK, I'LL AGREE WITH YOU THERE, XYM!

Soon you will pass through my body, and be nothing but my shit...

After unfounded accusations of dancefloor gropacious snoggage with Pretties¹, and thusly abondoned to Fend For Myself in a sea of Lara Crofts, Alice's, Leeloo's, Harley Quims and other diverse Pretties of an alluring nature, it's time for Hallowe'en Partay part II.

The Alphini birthday boy, saddled (Savilled?) in pumpkin, afore becoming a horny Devil, and ending up pissed with wonky antlers.

Or something.

Anyhoo, as Mr Migraine slept off the bollocknaise, it's left to Xym to entertain further Pretties.

Firstly, we like the Pretty Eyes whilst watching a film based on crows portrayed by ravens with images of eagles. Not to mention the titless wonders with their gravity enforced frontage.

And then, it's time for longpig nommage. And you know you're in for a good time when the credits have characters named "Gratuitous Lesbian #1".

And then, I has to sit back, being force fed green cake, chocolate cake, three fingers, scampi fries, bacon fries, choccie biscuits and whole bags of crisps.

Without a drink!

And then I has to sit though David Tennant and Kevin Webster as Lady C engages in under-blankie ladyfappage.

   

Kevin Webster
Corrie Mechanic

Colon Farell
Camp Vamp

 Fun Timez.

¹ I MEAN, HONESTLY - THIS IS THE XYM. CHANCE'D BE A FINE THING. A FAREWELL HUG AND A PECK ON THE NECK AND IT'S SUDDENLY BESAVILE-ING THEM LIKE GARY GLITTER IN A VIETNAMESE SWEETIE SHOP! NOT TO MENTION THE MOLESTATIONARY MOTORBOARDING. MOLESTATION INDEED! WHAT'S WRONG WITH A RAIL NETWORK BOARDING AREA FOR BLIND TUNELLING RODENTS? I SUPPOSE "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MY MOLESTATION" IS MORE APPEALING THAN "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE SOME PUPPIES". ESPECIALLY IF A MOLESTATION IS LIKE A PS3 FOR THE AFOREMENTIONED WORM EATING BURROWERS BENEATH. OR SOMETHING.

Mean Green Mother From Planet Gel (and Xyms mad)...

Well, bugger me backwards¹! The Xym actually mingled, conversed AND interracted with NEW PEOPLES!

Yes, a second occurrence of this rarest of rare events!

I'll have to see if I can cut down a bit...

Anyhoo, it was The Wedding Of The King Of The Goths, and a mighty fine wedding it was too. And a mighty shiny shindig after! Straight to the Goat's And Whore's Ease, and I appear to have been adopted again! I'm now an honorary member of the Essex Clan!

Wonderful, wonderful people!

And I'm a hit with The Bride's Sister too!

Who, as ever, is unavailable (just to quash any rumours out there, which seem to have begun already, even during the reception).

Crikey o'Riley - Xym being popular? Whatever next? Xym making an effort with Pretties?

[reader's voice:] "Ha ha ha! As if! Xym? Approach Pretties? Actually engage and speak to them? Ha ha cough splutter!  Excuse me whilst I mop up this beer I just spat out in humourescent shock!"

Well - I think I may have been somewhat led up that there garden path somewhat. See, yonks back, I got somewhat shot down on a most spectacular level once a most pleasing Pretty found out of my interest² when somebody grassed me up. In addition, The Xym got warned off. Futhermore, many whisperings in my ear of a most disconcerting nature. Advised to get rid. Tales of the horrid harpy's horridity. Do not pursue. Oh Xym, you can do so much better. Ditch the bitch!

And you know what... I think someone may have been somewhat less than truthful! Indeed, subsequent revelations indicate a hint of the now legendary Ulterior Motive of enamouration of The Xym, and Pretty Green Eyed monstrosities revelling in the removal of their reviled rival (despite their own unavailability!).

Or some such.

So, I think I need to place less faith in the duplicity of them there womens, and more confidence in meself...

(and somewhere, I hear Lucy, John & Jo shouting "Finally!" and cheering...)

¹ PLEASE DON'T - ALIEN ANAL ASSAULT IS BAD ENOUGH WITHOUT UNEXPECTED BUMRAPE FROM ROHYPNOLLING TAXIDERMISTS. OR SOMETHING.

² NORMAL PROCEDURE ADOPTED BY PRETTIES UPON FINDING OUT THAT THE XYM HAS A THING FOR THEM IS TO COP OFF WITH SOMEONE ELSE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!

You will always find me like a gooseberry at parties...

Ah, the popularity of The Xym.

You know when you creates one of them there Facebook Events?

And how, when Xym accepts, everyone else suddenly has Business Elsewhere?

Or if The Xym leaves it, and everyone starts accepting?

Well, I would recommend you not invite The Xym no more!

For the attendence at the soirée this eve somewhat embarassingly consisted of The Xym (prompt & early by 15 mins) and the hosts.

With telephonic communications of diverse excuse, such as one's partner having the sniffles and therefore having to stay home to make his tea at 9:30pm!

Not to mention the revelation that, despite allegedly being invited, I ended up Shit Creek without an Abbey! For the promised details never came through, and I was left out yet again!

And don't even get me started on Weddings. Oh, you're going. And you're going. And you too? Ah, my invite must be lost in The Farcebook. Oh no - wait a minute... ah! It's coz The Xym is both an unpopular git and a deterrent!

Still, at least 2 others turned up.

For an hour.

When the 'party' was nearly over.

Rockin' till 2:30am (with an extension to 2:36 to cater for party-poopers)?

No, it's "Sod Off Xym!" by 11:15 or so!

Oh well, at least I had a good time...

...even if I did outstay my welcome by 4hrs 15mins...

Two weeks in a cellar under a light bulb...

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