Horrorshow!! Proper horrorshow, mind. Innit?

I was going to write this whole post in Nadsat and then I realised that only a complete cunt would do that.

At the moment it’s all about the consumption. Joyful consumption until replete with other people’s cultural churnings, with only a smattering of guilt that I am not churning out any of my own: Persepolis, Russell Brand’s Booky Wook, Interview with the Vampire, the Bootprints and Fistmarks mix tape, Johnny Cash live at Fulsome Prison, those darlings Flight of the Conchords and venison slow-cooked with port & juniper berries. (Well, that last one was my own at least)

A winter afloat without hot water and under high pressure at work has somehow increased the closeness of the Turtles beyond measure. We are happy as pigs in shit (sometimes literally) and bizarrely still hell bent on being water-pikeys. Having been on our sweet rusting hulk for 13 months now, we are looking to upgrade to something with, perhaps, a wardrobe and heating and a clean water supply. We want to buy our very own vessel, as living under the whim of a stoned landlord is never a beneficial situation.

It’s good to have goals.