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Hawd it Yoda! Hands aff!



I mean it! I'll cut those pointy ears off!



Would you credit it? You lose an advanced, signed copy of Joe Abercrombie’s Best Served Cold, you purchase your own, and a bloody Jedi master thinks he can read it before you! Honestly, the cheek!

I’ll tell you this for free, the good side of the force isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

So blogamites, it’s been exactly one month to the day since my last post. I really milked that birthday post, eh? Would it not be groovy if we could have a birthmonth instead of a birthday?

I think some people might be nodding their heads at that one, and some might be grabbing their hearts and wallets.

What have I been up to this past month? Well, I’ve been doing a stock take in work, and that involves counting millions of different kinds of cladding screws. Mind numbing work you might think, but the thing is, shove your ipod on and there is something to be said for monotonous work. You see, my job usually involves constant selling. I chat to customers all day, and sometimes that can be hard on the brain. Not because there’s any energy used by being a natural chat monster, but because most people I talk to have the same line of conversation. Lately it’s been the credit crunch, or swine flu. There’s only so much a man can take of that kind of chat, before he starts staring at ceiling tiles whilst picking his nose.

But enough about work, I came here to play, and play I will damn you!

After the footy season is over, I often like to take off round Scotland for the weekend. So last Saturday, I headed off to Culzean castle. It’s about fifty miles from Glasgow in a straight line, so I drove with my eyes closed. It has an American connection because the Earl that owned it, Earl Kennedy, got a bit strapped for cash and his American cousin helped him pay his builders.

Eisenhower even had his oval office in the castle, which you can look at through a glass window. There’s a picture of his Mrs, two big black phones, a paper from WW2 on his desk, and his uniform jacket, hanging on his not so comfy looking chair. I really wanted to lick that jacket. What?

Anyway, I didn’t get any pictures of inside the castle, but here’s some I did get!

WARNING: Pictures may keep going, and are in no way a good representative of my true hairy manliness.


When I parked the Marky wagon, I came across these white stags. Do you think they go white in the sun? Just like dog crap?



Being the big kid that I am, I climbed down to the beach only to discover somebody had stolen all the sand!(Must have been the English)



Of course, climbing back up that bloody great big cliff, wasn't as easy as going down it.


After sicking up my meatball subway, I took to walking the wrong way in tunnels. Fresh air does strange things to a man.



I did however, find a tree to hide in until my senses came back!



And then I remembered there was a castle about somewhere, so I took some dodgy pictures of it because I was jealous.








And lastly, I'd like to vent my disgust at the fact that it doesn't matter if you stand in front of a lake for three hours, you're still not going to see a hand come out of it with a sword that will make you the rightful King of Britain. How sucky is that!?!



That's all for now folks. Just remember, if you have to pee the bed, do it on her side.
Marky