Planet Bluto

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Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode


Quite clearly you do not want to hear what’s it been like down the writing well this week. How one kind of goes slightly mental down there. In my defence, I am spending a lot of time with myself. In my head. Alone. Me and Irene. Cackling away. My gibber can be hard to handle at times. Imagine when it’s all the time? Dose.

Also, I am quite sure you do not want to hear about a few slick DJigs this week. Pool parties. Rooftops. Savage spots. Fun all round. Giddy up that green honey. Here is a tremendous photo encapsulating how tough DJigging can be at times…

Obviously there is also little to no interest as to why I emerged out of bed this morning, looked out the window while eating some mighty eggs, and saw this…

Wouldn’t want to bore you with how it’s just another sun day Mon-day. Oh. Eh. Oh. Seeing as every day is sun day in LA. Seriously though, how aboot that view?!

Staring At Demented Goats

Far more exciting is the one time I did emerge from the well during the week. Daytime cinema. Went to see The Devil’s Double. All about Suddam Huessin’s nutter son and the guy he forced to become his body double. Mental movie. Based on a true story. Slicing. Dicing. Torturing. Gruesome stuff. Gory. People are nuts. Added to this, I’ve been reading American Psycho all week. Coincidental. Nutter book too. Casual psychotic thoughts are brilliant. Makes you wonder what actually goes on in people’s heads. Which is all probably why when a random dude came up with half an hour to go, claiming that the seat one over was his (empty cinema) and he had just come back from the bathroom (spoof), you might begin to get a bit paranoid. Just a tad. Especially as he then kind of just looks at you instead of the nutters on screen. All with the air of a SWF. Except he’s black. And a he. Single at least. Odd buzz. Anorak. Wooly jumper. Glasses. Lazy eye. Balding. Profiling. But it’s LA? Roasting hot outside? And I’ve seen Zodiac.

Takes off his anorak. Starts to pull something out of his jacket. Is that a gun? A knife? A- No, just a cake. And his phone. Phew. Starts texting. Slowly. One letter at a time. Keypad tones turned up to the full. Loud beeps. Deeps. Beep. Deep. Beep beep. Deep. Deep beep. Ha-um. (Eating his cake too.) For way too long. So you decide enough is enough. Time to do a George Costanza. (On a cinema date. Two guys behind him are making a load of noise. Wants to impress the girl. Goes with the opposite of his instincts. Tells them to shut up.) So you turn and ask SBM if he could stop loudly texting his way through the movie. Says nothing. Just stares at you. Starts some slow, deep breathing. Keeps staring at you like a demented goat. Goes to beep one more time. Your hand flinches for some reason. Time freezes. Demented goat. Paranoid ape. Staring. Heads cocking. Dementia taking over on both sides. Finally the goat gets up. Grabs his anorak. Wraps up his cake. Leaves. Thankfully he doesn’t knife you as he squeezes down the aisle. Phew. Nor does he turn around and whip out a gun while slowly exiting. Phuu. Gone. Leaving you in peace to enjoy the mindless onscreen violence.

Definitely Not Worth All That Gibber...

So yeah, full and fun week on Planet Bluto. Obviously the only thing you want to know is why is this called Planet Bluto? Well. Ha. Great story. See, I think my toe is broken. In fact I think it has been for a few months now. Maybe even a full year. Turned a slightly blue shade this week. I’ve a blue toe. And I’m off on some weird planet. Get it? Isn’t that hilarious?! Ahem. As I said: Being stuck with my gibber all the time can be tough! Writing a book and being in seclusion also makes for simply wonderful blogs! Need to get back to galavanting and doing stand-up shows pre-tty soon. Tut. Gibber off. Planet Bluto’s current national anthem on…

Rasputin – Boney M


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