As I sit here in a pool of linguistic jelly and alcohol-withdrawl-emmiting residue, I am inclined to divulge into some of greater depths of my being, but to also release some incredibly pompous, nonsensical lexical diarrhoea.

So, as a spring-board to propel this nonsense I will start with the most recent problem Euan and I have had, and why it is all Iain’s fault.

So, I’m in town with Iain, Catherine and Sarah (wonderful woman :P) and we’re trying to get me an iPhone. (Long story short, I have it and would be typing all over its glorious body right now, had I the patience to use the tiny touch keyboard, with my less than dainty thumbs.) As I leave the God forsaken shop, Iain tells me that Euan just passed the shop with Kirsty and that they had avoided me deliberately. So yeah, I am peeved to say the least. So I text Euan confessing my love to him and saying how much he doesn’t love me anymore. I go home that night both annoyed and aroused, as I usually am.

Anywho whatnot and henceforth, I got a text from Euan today saying that his phone was off, so he hadn’t been able to text me for a few days. Also, he and his girlfriend Rachel (not Kirsty, no, not Kirky at all) were already in a rush to meet somebody AND didn’t want to interrupt me during my happiest moment yet – getting my iPhone.

What can I say, Euan is a great guy. And Iain; well, the jury is still out on him, and because of his recent spate of rapes and murders, they may be a while.

Yours Sincerely,
Paul’s Ego Club.

PS: I am starting a campaign to get Euan to turn his phone on more often. If you see him, shout at him for it. If we get him to turn it on, then I can phone him more often and these bloggs can become more and more frequent.