Jeans & Matches

I’ve been away from the blog for a couple of days, as I needed to get a report to my PHD supervisor (do I need an excuse?). Well what’s been going on? I’ve realised that wearing hipsters to work is a very very bad idea; being a road sweep you’re required to wear a sort-of bright purple cat-suit over your regular clothes. Usually I would wear old jeans underneath, but the only clean ones was a pair of Diesel hipsters. By the end of my shift I was barely wearing them! Women used to tease blokes about having a butt cleavage; well my butt cleavage was around the size of Dolly Partons chest.

Now to Richard Hammond. Why do men think that being able to nip down the shops in a Volvo qualifies them to drive a rocket powered death machine? If I’d been writing the papers the headline would have been: “Man plays with matches and gets burnt”.