I’m enjoying this blogging lark. It has been quite therapeutic; a good way of letting out all the ranting and dogs-playing-Poker which used to rattle around inside my head. And then there’s all the groupies.
My writing style seems to depend on my insomnia and/or blood-sugar levels. My original intention was to use the blog to practice my creative writing (and hopefully get some critical feedback) but instead I seem to have veered into the territory of “essays from the barstool”.
The format of daily small-but-perfectly-formed mini-posts as favoured by many bloggers seems to have passed me by. I try to be brief, but it seems I cannot write anything shorter than about 500 words. I fear this has alienated my writings from many of my attention-deficit friends, who only like blogs they can read on their iPhones whilst on the ‘loo. If my writing does not reach a riotous finale before their bowels do, it is doomed to go unread.
It has taught me things about myself; like how I really care how many readers I have and all my shallow panderings to keep them happy. Some time ago I blogged about how I’m a cheap whore who will glady sell his soul for a couple of mugs. Well, that same, friendly, we-buy-any-soul-dot-com company (who also have a sideline in letting you create customly-obscene birthday cards for your aunty Maude) is running their Funniest UK Blog Competition for a second year running, and I have made the shortlist!
I’ll have to be honest: I am chuffed to bits just to get this far! And yes, I realise that in the grand scheme of things it’s not really a big deal. It’s hardly The Man Booker Prize – it’s an independent UK company who have worked out that the kind of people who buy their products are the same kind of people who read blogs with lots of swearing and nudity. They should visit my office and set up a stall – they’d make a packet.
But to get to the shortlist is not enough – I must win the votes, too! The opposition must be CRUSHED! And voting is now open for The Dog’s Doodahs Funniest UK Blog 2013.
To put it plainly, Ladies and Gentlemen: I need your vote!
If you’re a regular reader and find me even slightly entertaining, then I would be delighted if you would consider voting for me. If you’re an undecided voter who needs convincing then let me know: sexual-favours are not out of the question. Even that one that requires 24-hours notice and written permission from your local borough council.
If you are a first-time visitor here, perhaps coming from the competition website and attracted by the promise of shallow titillation and depraved carrying-on, then welcome! Have a look around! Help yourself to a biscuit (Custard Creams, because I am British) and a slice of cake (Battenberg, because I am an old git). Ignore that chalk outline on the floor.
My most recent articles are listed down the right hand side, and a complete list of all the drivel I’ve ever published is available under the “Post Archive” tab.
Should you choose not to vote: don’t worry about it. It is unlikely to change my writing habits. The intellectual stimulation (cough) you have so far enjoyed from this blog will continue as usual; in its haphazard, irregular, busload-of-nuns-mistakenly-visiting-a-sextoy-convention style. But remember that if you don’t vote you’re a bad person. That’s a vote wasted, that is!
If you’re an undecided voter, then I hope a picture of some kittens will convince you: