Recently something smacked me in the face so hard as to knock me into next week. Yup that’s right… fucking time travel, motherfuckers. Only this isn’t the nice kind of time travel where Doc Brown and a mongrel of questionable origin is awaiting you with a nice warm amplifier. This is the kind of time travel which makes reality movies about the collapse of civilisation look like a fucking cartoon. This is getting old(er)…

So, as I was saying about the knocking and next week. It’s next week, and I’m old.

• Things are too loud
  Yes, this is even though I wake up deaf with bad sinuses every morning.
• Bright lights are too bright. Someone turn off the fucking sun – vampire? Maybe.
• Alcohol sometimes works too well… Upside is a cheap date, or more then likely ‘night in’, as it hurts to go out…
• All I want is for a nice quiet, dim, and peaceful pub to crawl into.
• Oh, look… I blinked and it’s next fucking year.
• My body has now altered it’s default setting to ‘ache like a bitch’ (Sorry if this offends all you bitches – not really.)
• Music. I’m beginning to think of classical orchestral music as ‘super classic’ and 80s rock’n’pop as classical.
• Clubs. What the fuck are clubs apart from dark, noisy, and hostile environments where the young get off their faces?
• When the fuck did women start dressing in a pair of tights and some cling film to go out on the town – come on women – leave something to the imagination – I don’t wanna see your thinly veiled minge, even when drunk off half a pint of lager at four in the afternoon. Go put some fucking clothes on.
• I realised my parents were fucking retards, nasty fucking dribbling retards with as much as an idea of reality as the most retarded of my cats – you know, the one which licks anyfuckingthing.
• It doesn’t require alcohol to wake up (Yet again?) with a hangover.
• People in their 30’s are referred to as kids.
• I’ve forgotten twice as much as I currently know.

So getting older. In my imagination I can see a bold figure clawing away at the walls of life itself, whilst being dragged kicking and screaming into the eternal darkness, all the time screaming like something more wild than wild. Reality: Everything fucking hurts.

You know the worst part? I’m not evening fucking 45 yet, and I might have the best part of another 40 years doing this shite. Still, I’m a cheap date now, and by the time I’m much older I’ll be able to get off on a whiff of perfume 😉

Oh, and you people in your 20’s and 30’s reading this – you’ll all think that this will never be you. HaHa!