Planet Bluto

Leave a comment

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… Continue Reading »

The Death Of Pointless Notes

Leave a comment


Two age old conundrums which have confused apes for never: Which is more important, petrol or cake? Tough one. Good one. And the other… What does a bucket and a chariot have in common? That is a tad easier. Starts with an M and ends with an ape. Wuu. Lucky them! If you have been reading my gibber since way back when – when what? – or one of the hundreds of thousands of people to have read my book of gibber, you might remember my love affair with… The Bucket. Remember. Shudder. The One. Heartbreak. Ridicule. Agony. Frustration. Sadness. Despair. Delighted. Well, delighted when I eventually sold my old truck and stopped going on and on and on about it. My old truck which looked like a rusty old bucket. Smelt like fake tan. ┬áKept breaking down. Which is the technical term for when you run out of petrol. Yes indeed, I am that clueless. Well, was that clueless. Slightly better now. Although this gibber begs to differ… Continue Reading »