The real big D - Depression

For all my bluster, attempts at comedy, and such, the big D is still a big part of my life.

I, as I am in mind, going to try and make me explaining my depression as comical as I can.

Whether this is the best way to do it or not, at this very moment I feel it is.

I will get this out of the way first, Owen Patterson is an absolute twat. You are the environment sec, yet you are happy to get rid of all our environment, basically. Show some initiative, some balls, and some actual realisation of what you are in charge of.


I am 29 years of age now and my hair looks lovely, it really does, I could do a lot of things with it.

But what I want to talk about here is depression. And not the "OMG RIVER ISLAND HAVEN'T GOT THAT FAUX LEATHER BAG I WANTED" depression.

I am talking about that depression where you wake up in a morning, and think there is no point. When it gets to 6pm, and you are still feeling the same. When you get phone calls from family or friends and you still feel in your head and your heart you want to be isolated and don't want to see any of them. Or anyone at all.

You finally get out of bed to go to the toilet, feeling confident, but the first thing you do once you leave the toilet is get back in bed and turn your phone on silent, so the vibration won't disturb you.

I don't really know where I am going with this blog to be honest. As even though I try to relate and give advice above, it means shitall.

It's no problem at all that you have problems, but don't keep them secret, everyone is here to help. x

Gef the talking Mongoose from the Isle of Man

People may not know about Gef, but I do.

He was born in New Delhi in 1852 to quite an affluent family, considering he was a Mongoose.

There are many stories about Gef that pre-date this blog, as I am only just writing this, so that makes sense.

Gef used to live in the walls of the Irvings house on the Isle of Man. The reason he lived in the walls has always been quite a contentious subject, but I have always believed it was because he was ridiculed  for trying to wear really bright red trousers, and the Irvings just couldn't cope with it.

Many stories written about Gef confirmed that he hasn't been sighted for a very long time.

I can prove otherwise.

Yes fair enough he lost contact with a lot of people once MSN Messenger stopped, but who didn't?

Gef currently lives at RSPB Leighton Moss, and although he struggles with phone reception at some parts of the reserve, he will always answer once he is back in signal.

Gef is currently collecting charity donations for Christmas presents for Deaf Bullfinches.

But his advert for donations does say "Send me throw cushions and I will fucking cut your throat".

God bless Gef.

Guest Blog By A Friend I Met In Colchester

HI Everyone.

I am Sol Butamol.

My breathing may be a trouble at times, but I have really strong shins.

I agreed to do a little post here for Thomas after he stopped buying the Daily Mail.

Fair enough, he only bought the Daily Mail to line his rabbit hutch, but that rabbit ran away 18 months ago and he carried on buying it.

My main interests are wheezing, coughing, and putting plastic things in my mouth.

None of my garden furniture matches, but I just get on with it.

Sting's appearance in Quadrophenia really upsets me and the people I live with.

I don't really think I need to go on much more, as I don't really have anything else to say other than urban foxes like a good cuddle every now and again.

Thanks

SB

The Up To Date Life Of The Drummer Who had dread Locks In The Pop Group Hanson And His Conservation Efforts

Not sure what his name is so I will call him Jim, he doesn't really need a name but it will help tell his story better. No, Barry. He was/is called Barry. No surname, just like a Brazilian Footballer.

Think he might be Hungarian actually but that doesn't really matter.

Barry once saved a Narwhal from it's own reflection after it got itself in a kerfuffle with a new bathroom mirror in B&Q.

After the success of the worldwide hit 'Mmmbop', Barry always agonised  whether he should have put a 'H' at the front of the song title.

Barry is still recording songs, his new prog rock album 'Why are we killing Badgers when science proves it is the wrong thing to do' is currently at production stage.

Barry is really looking forward to his first snowball fight of the upcoming winter.


Sadly Barry had nothing else to say, he realised the red lights in his LA Lights trainers had stopped working so went off to write an angst ridden song.

A Friend And His Hatred Of Being Named

Hi friends.

This is going to be a subject close to my heart, as, well, it is basically.

This post is about one of my friends that I feel a lot for, but he hates a lot of things so I struggle at times to give him piggy backs.

These are some of the things he hates:

Dry Stone Walling
prescription Shoes
Pastry
Transcripts He Doesn't understand
Gravity
Jack Fulton's

Joe (false name so I can at least be perpendicular) doesn't eat fish, but he eats Mink and the odd Weasel.

"Joe" also lives his life by pretending to be a Sunflower in an otherwise Sunflowerless world. Joe tries.

If you ask 'Joe' what his favourite painting is, he will tell you that it's Artex.

'Joe' once watched A Nightmare Before Christmas in March.

"KITE FLY KITE FLY KITE FLY" Is the reason 'Joe' got thrown out of Bridlington bingo for a false start.

'Joe' Thinks Petula Clark is Bill Murray.

Katy Perry

DO YOU EVER FEEL LIKE A LIGHTNING CRAB?

DRIFTING THROUGH THE FOG, WANTING TO START ON BEN?

DO YOU EVER FEEL, SO PAPER THIN?

THAT YOU EXPECT ORIGAMI TO NOT BE A SPORT AGAIN EVEN IN FUTURE OLYMPICS OR JUST GENERAL SPORTING EVENTS THAT WOULD ADD CHARISMA OR BONUS POINTS?

TABLE LADDERS AND CHAIRS MATCH:Public Bridleway's V Miley Cyrus V The Badger Cull

I can remember the first ever Tables Ladders and Chairs match. 

Sadly Working Men's Clubs aren't frequented as much on a Sunday Lunchtime these days. 

While the title of this post is like a proper war and ting, I don't mean I am going to compare them against each other. If I did the badger cull would win due to a complete lack of morality. I just want to have a short talk about all three of the items in the basket. 

Public Bridleways:

The sexy cousin of a public footpath. Harder, more shocking to the eye of a deaf person, and definitely a place I would love to open a Haberdashery if I got the planning permission. 

  

Miley Cyrus:

Don't break her heart, she might not understand. But deep down she will. 

A lot has been made of this lady of late, me personally, I think she is OK. It's not like she is risking her life by rebuilding drystone walls or provoking Koalas. Her favourite film is Ghostbusters 2, and I can't fault that. 

The Badger Cull:

Now then, this really is a bit of a sickly thing going on. The badgers can't fight back due to the Government confiscating all of their boxing gloves and Cat O Nine Tails.

The Government are wanting to eradicate these fierce cuddly bastards, just so them farmer types can buy new goalposts that they can move. 

My next post will be less serious, and I might have some paintings of bridges or storage compartments or snowflakes.