"What, you mean this blog doesn't have a suggestive title?", "Just shut up and bend over"

Okay I know it's been a while, and you're probably thinking I don't care about blogs as much as I should, but I'll make that up to you, devoted followers (of which there are probably six at most, and one of them is the Lady, who probably just reads it out of politeness) with a promise of fresh new bloggings every... (wait for it)... two days. There. Satisfied now? No? Your mum was. Yeah, that's right, I went there. Anyway, mum-shagging jokes aside, on with the blog:

Today's blog will be about, oh I don't know, staplers perhaps? Do people blog about staplers? Probably not. Fuck it, this blog will be about the place that I am unfortunate enough to call home, Essex's genital wart, the grubby town of Wickford.

Wickford is a place where nothing happens. EVOR. This means that whilst it is great as a place to be an old married couple trapped in a loveless husk of a marriage as you each wait for the other to die, it is an awful place to be anyone young who wants to do anything fun.

So, what is there in Wickford?

• There's a Somerfield... you could... stand in front of... and there's a 99p Shop... if you're too poor to stand outside Somerfield...
• There are several poor quality schools, where kids can learn through the medium of apathy.
• There are at least three children's play parks, where the cool kids can sit on swings, piss on slides, and get pregnant on roundabouts.
• There's a library, guaranteed to have books with almost the same title as the one you want, featuring "Lord of the Rimps", "Harry Porter", "Tweelight", and many books featuring "Doris the Explorer".
• There's Wickford's famous graffiti, reminding us all of whose mum's a whore.
• There are lots of Ford Fiestas to admire, secretly laughing at how much they've spent on what is still just a car.
• There are people in trackpants to ogle, safe in the knowledge that despite their attire, they've never done anything that can be technically classed as exercise.
• There was a Woolworths, there still is a WH Smith.
• There's a station, very good for leaving Wickford quickly and cheaply.

Those are the only things about Wickford. There is nothing else. There used to be a nudist colony, but it closed down in the eighties.

Wednesday's blog: Reasons to be cheerful, or at least more cheerful than you are now. Or maybe it'll be about raisins. I'm as yet undecided.