A Bum Steer

I have been plagued for some time now by haemorrhoids (have I spelt that correctly? No...ok...PILES then).  This has gone on since last year when I went through all of the stress of redundancy at Shitty Central.  I had been to the doctor last year, a locum with a comedy face.  Rather 'Bo Selecta', I thought.  And Indian to boot.  Tragic, really.  Anyway, I have endured six months worth of Movicol and Anusol, etc, etc.  Went back to quack this afternoon.  He motioned to me - I understood his intentions - that I was to remove trousers and undercrackers immediately whilst he examined the offending pustule.  The prescription?  Fybogel.  If that fails to work, then we will work our way through the various 'pensioner-tastic' remedies on the market until we find one that jolly well works.  Oh joy!!!

The Regina Monologues

Ah, it has been a funny old 3 months.  Left my rather well-paid job at the end of December.  Realised that I couldn't cope any longer with working alongside fuckwits.  Took the money and ran like the wind.  Had a lovely Christmas in Blackpool, and a couple of weeks off in January.  Then into another job, similar to the one that I had but less well paid and with significantly fewer (i.e. no) fuckwits. Result.
Am sitting here sipping red wine and listening to ipod (current track - 'Puss in Boots' by Adam Ant.....
Have realised that, facially, I am turning into my mother.   Approaching mid-life with a wry smile and plenty of Dermologica moisturiser.
When I think of something interesting to write, you'll be the first to know........watch this space. x