Alex Zane has a punchable face

Ok so this might not be as targeted a blog as it seems from that title, but Marcel was just watching Rude Tube and I couldn't help but think it. He really does. And I want to be the guy to do the punching. I just don't like him. He's a smarmy prick, and if any of the girls reading this fancy him, go punch yourself in the vagina, now. It deserves it. It should have better taste.

Slightly forceful opening there, but I stand by it. So what should I talk about? Not sure really. I just felt like having a little bit of a rant while I'm sat in on a Saturday night with no money or prospects. Mmmm, how I love life right now. And clearly, it loves me.

That being said, I've had an alright week. Hung out with Chris, which is always a giggle, and watched an awful lot of Cougar Town, which is just brilliant, so I shan't complain too much. Though given that I'm not up to an awful lot, I should really be concentrating on the creative side of my life. Believe it or not, I do mean this blog, to a certain extent. It doesn't strike me as being particularly creative either, but I started it to try and store comedy ideas online so I didn't lose them. Most comedians carry a notepad around with them all the time to jot down ideas. Great plan. Except I'm shit. I forget. Everything. Always.

So I decided to just rant away on here and try to put new ideas into my phone when I deem them good enough. That's half my problem though, I self-censor. I don't think most of my ideas are any good at all so don't jot them down. Thus removing the opportunity to return to them later and do a second draft that would actually make them funny, or combining them together. Meh, I'm a dick. Oh well.

So what should I talk about? Damn that's tricky. Maybe I'll just slag myself off some more for a while and try to write something funny later or another day. Because I'm not feeling that funny today. The most hilarious thing I've seen all day was Tottenham's woeful attempt at scoring goals against bottom-of-the-table Wigan earlier. Fucking pathetic.

So yeah, my paintings are shit at the moment as well. Oh well. I can't be arsed! I've got so lazy with them, I just want to cover the canvas as quickly as I possibly can and get onto another one, thus the black foregrounds and lovely blended sky look I've gone for. It's just easy. I could knock one up in 15 minutes. But ask me to do anything with detail and I'd rather grate off my foot. Dunno why, I just can't do it right now. I need to challenge myself, but it's hard to get motivated and inspired, especially when you don't officially have any reason to get out of bed in the morning. Ok, afternoon. Picky fuckers.

I'm wondering whether I should even bother carrying on with this, as it really feels as if it's going nowhere. Let's see what 'comedy' thoughts I stored in my phone shall we? I have "Tony Barbados". Just Tony Barbados scribbled in. Though I did think that was funny. It was just a fake name Chris cooked up while taking the piss out of me, and I decided that it was an epic band name, so I now need to get yet more creative and actually learn my bass, so I can be one half of the Tony Barbados nu-funk beast. You know you'd listen if that was the name.

Oh yeah and I just found the thing I wrote on my first day at TLC that I forgot to share with you last time. This basically summed up for me what this whole experience was going to be like. I was waiting for the bus because I'm a lazy cunt and couldn't be bothered walking (piss off it was cold!) and this guy also waiting for the bus sneezed.

So I thought to myself "Dan, you need to go into this with a good attitude or you'll be back home by 11am", so I said bless you. Like a good Christian. And instead of just saying thanks, like you might expect, this dude slowly walks up to me and says in response "I'm blessed enough as it is thanks"

What? Stop being creepy, old man. That's just a weird thing to say. Oh, so then you follow it up with: "I can show you..."

Oh fuck. He's gonna show me his cock. It's 8:20am. There's no chance I'm ready to see old man cock at this time of the morning. I've not even had a cuppa. Cuppa before cock, that's always my rule. Except after C.

So he continues..."I can show you...the secret to eternal life". Oh shit. I'd rather have seen his cock. It'd be less disgusting to me. I did worry briefly that he was going to show me his cock and then kill me, but then he started to tell me how you live forever.

I'm struggling not to laugh in his face at this point. It's hard, believe me (ooh matron). But he only gets as far as point 1, which I fear is the only step he was told as well. "First of all, you need to get yourself a good Bible." Hmmm, yeah, not one of those dodgy black market Bibles with Steve in the lead role and lots of wookiies in it. A good one. Maybe he meant laminated or something.

Then he tells me something which again I struggle to not laugh at. He says: "Some people say it's out of date. I tell you, it's more in-date than any book in the world right now. Seriously."

Hmmm, really? Is it mate? Are you sure? Cos I can think of a few more in-date books than the Bible. The Very Hungry Caterpillar for one. Windows 95 For Dummies being another. And Courtesan Etiquette in the 1700s.

Fucking Christians. Do you think he'd have forgiven me if I'd stabbed him with a pen?