Palaces, mobs and world domination

For anyone out there expecting the profound, I have little to offer at the moment: I am caught up in a flow of essays and applications, the like of which the world has never seen. Well, one application and a piece of five hundred words but I am continuing my project, drastically redefining the word 'lazy'.

What has happened of note, recently?

I took an extended stroll up to Hampton Court Palace the other day, in beautiful, wintry semi-sunshine. I had a sausage roll at the Hampton end and then rode the train back to stolid, futile, old Surbiton.

Another thing, I went to watch "the famous CFC" and sat among the hooligan element. It all ended as quite a damp squib of a loss to a Championship side but my sense of enjoyment, as usual, was disproportionate to the event. It was good as both an insight into the more animal elements of the lower classes (the drunkards and the racists, especially), as a exploration into revolutionary potential (all that chanting, what would Marx make of it? Shame about the St. George's flags and their implied NFy False Consciousness) and, furthermore, it was a bit of bonding with my Dad.

Finally, I went on a kamakazee rampage in a game of Risk yesterday, before staging a come-back and consolidating three continents, proving, once and for all, that anarchists and freedom fighters can enter the democratic process.

It seems that I am turning a little to the left in my old age, perhaps owing to the fact I am rereading the Benn Diaries.

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By the way, to those naysayers who maintain that this blog is a pile of shit, I've decided to forget about you completely and follow my own personal obsessions at the expense of any literary pretensions whatsoever. I need the writing practice, as you will no doubt delight in telling me at some point in the future...

Later chaps!