I'm alive

I feel so guilty when I look down the list of recent visitors to the blog and realise that it's at least seven or eight Irish cocaine-related deaths since I last posted. Michael Caine has been getting the Ireland job for at least a week or more at this stage and that can't be healthy.

Anyway, I just want to assure you all that I am still alive and haven't fallen prey to the curse of Charlie that stalks our brave and ancient land. I sneeze that much I could never keep the stuff in me for long enough anyway.

I know alot of you were most likely very worried. I have a picture in my head of you all having moments of sheer, terrifying anxiety and, in unison, all stopping dead in your tracks at precisely the same moment during mundane daily tasks, to stare at the sky and think about me, like the people on RTE do when the angelus bell tolls around the country.

In any case, I want to state categorically here and now for the record that I am most definitely still of this world for another while yet. Coincidentally, I saw that movie 'Into the Wild' where yer man fucks off to Alaska because his parents wanted to buy him a car, and the 24,000 dollars in his bank was getting to him, so ironically enough I've been in a bit of a metaphorical wilderness myself. But by golly there's a blog or two left in me still. And I never use the expression by golly so nobody should doubt me here.
In short, by way of explanation, work has been decidedly shitey and the boss has basically been an absolute asshole of late but thankfully the end is in sight. Fancy making me work and stuff, the cheek of it.

Hang on; shitey, asshole, end, cheek? There's something Freudian going on there.

I'll be back next week and you'll all be sorry, just you wait.