Got to go to London tomorrow. Expecting absolute carnage with this heat and the knock-on from the crash.
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Vitor Pereira popped up on my Instagram feed promoting a hair replacement treatment. Cheeky cunt.
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I was driving through Reading to play snooker this evening. As I got to the roundabout by Caversham Bridge and turned left, I stopped at a pedestrian crossing. There's a Village Hotel right by the roundabout and I know a lad who works there; he's about 6'9" and stands out a mile.
I lowered the window and shouted out to him "Dan!". He didn't respond, so I shouted "DAN" again. Still no response. I tried a few more times: "DAN!". Turns out it wasn't Dan at all. -
Mentalist.
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Had a really nice day standing on a box at the Village Hotel right by the roundabout by Caversham Bridge in Reading.
Except for that bit when some silly cunt started shouting 'DAN' at me for no reason, the mental.
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Gave notice to get married at the Register Office today.
Shit's getting real.
Anyway, on arrival we noted a couple having just completed thier nuptuals getting into a resplendent pristine MK1 Escort Mexico wedding car, to which I mentally noted "bit o class".
In a weird twist of coincidence however, I recognised the groom was a guy I'd interviewed for a Project gig earlier this week. He had mentioned he was getting hitched this week, but I'd completely forgotten about the whole notice appointment thing at that point. Indeed, I'd completely forgotten about it until soon to be actual Mrs. Seán remind me a few hours beforehand.
With HILARIOUS etc...
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Did he see you? If so, I hope he thinks you stalked out his wedding.
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I don't think so, no. I didn't go a-muscling in or anything like Lister appearing at Rimmer's brother Frank's 'do'.
Thinking about it this would've been a much more entertaining anecdote if I'd have stood there shouting "DAN, DAN!"
