I have news. mrs househusbandnot has bought a groovy silver scooter. So if you see a hot brunette on a silver scooter with a red helmet in and around London, there is a slight possibility that it could be mrs hhn. If you are in need of stalking me (or her), I'd suggest that you follow her, and she will eventually lead you to hhn HQ. All roads lead to and all that.
In other news, mrs hhn and I are getting excited about our Kenya holiday in December/January. (mrs hhn sent me a fantastic youtube clip of a honey badger killing a cobra yesterday. I could almost smell the Serengeti earth.) I made a tit of myself with Jeremy Clarkeson on Saturday. Robert Wyatt wheeled past me the other morning when I was listening to one of his songs on my isquad. And I finished Lost Planet on the Xbox the other night. It is approx the second or third ever game I have finished on PS2 or Xbox. (Had a go on a Weii the other night btw. Amusing, for three seconds, although Styx assures me that a quick round of golf on the Weii is great when you are twatted.)
And had a good discussion with mrss hhn the other night about what we would have for our last ever meal if we were on death row. We eventually decided on fish finger sandwiches, a bottle of vodka and some heroin. (I voted for a haggis starter too.) We got a bit carried away at one stage, thinking it could be a whole day of meals and not just one in the evening before they come and shave your head and ask if you want to have a final chat with the priest. Not sure how it works. I guess it varies from prison to prison. (I imagine the request for class A drugs would be met with differing responses from prison to prison too.)
Recent overheards/comments/observations:
mrs hhn: "I hate rules, unless I am in charge"
Styx: "But hhn, does Zanzibar really exist?"
And recent news.
PEACE hhn
3 comments:
And he's back!
Still a lightweight, though. "Fish finger sandwiches, a bottle of vodka and some heroin"? That's what we have for hors d'oeuvres at my gaff when the mother-in-law comes round. What you want is Tesco's Value macaroni and cheese with a valium gratin, washed down with brandy 'n' Benylin. And no bloody haggis.
a minge falafal anyone
what's a Zanzibar?
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