On occasion, Simon would venture out into our small paved garden and hit various items of fruit and vegetables with his hockey stick. This provided minutes of endless fun for him. One day Simon was out in the garden with a cantaloupe when bleary eyed realisation dawned on him. He launched the cantaloupe directly at the tower. He had quite an arm on him and before long the cantaloupe was sailing towards the tower.

It hit the side of the tower and exploded with considerable force.

I began to wonder if anyone lived in the tower. We rarely saw any lights on in there, even though personal effects were clearly visibile through the curtain framed windows. Simon said that a weird old lady lived in the tower. This could have been young-blooded romanticism, but I swear I did see a spinster feeding some cats once. And I did catch a glimpse of a cat looking out of the top floor window of the tower.

I digress. Simon took great enjoyment from the cantaloupe incident. He rushed indoors to the fridge and gathered a handful of food items. In his arsenal were the following:

1 apple
1 orange
1 egg

The apple produced a rather meaty thunk. It shattered into a million apple-y pieces, leaving a great big wet patch where the juice had impregnated itself into the yellow facade.

The orange was considerably better, the majority of the pithy interior covering a wide area of tower.

But the egg was by far and away the best weapon in the war on the tower. It clung to the paintwork like a leech, dribbling it's milky albumen down the side of the tower. Simon returned to the fridge to obtain more eggs.

To say he went a little egg-crazy would be a gross understatement. He hurled an entire box of eggs at the tower, 12 in all. Each one cracked over the masonry with a satisfying crunch. The albumen was literally cascading down the side of the tower. The war had begun, and it would be a bloody one.

Over time Simon must have chucked in the region of 40 eggs at the tower. The albumen would begin to turn rotten, changing from a milky white to an avocado green. Eventually the dark green would give way to a horrible black. By the time he was finished the tower had one side entirely covered in black egg white. The mess was clearly visible from the town and any vantage point around Falmouth.

The old lady in the tower either never noticed or didn't care. I sometimes ponder if perhaps the tower is still black on one side.

And another time, Simon threw eggs out of my window at some kids who were "Trick Or Treating". They had covered our front door in shaving foam, so Simon chucked a load of eggs at them from a height. One of the eggs hit a little girl, she must have been about 9 years old. It smacked her straight on top of her head and she ran off crying.

Steve and Karen met at the very beginning of our second year of University (2003 - 2004). We were initially pleased for Steve because he had not seen a lot of "action" so to speak during the first year, so it was nice that he was getting some sweet lovin'. It's a shame that she was not much to write home about, especially looks-wise, but at least she was talkative and friendly, at first.

As time went by, we noticed Steve begin to slip from our grasp. It was not exactly a long process, it was actually bordering on instantaneous. We would call him via telephony and he would say "Sorry guys, I can't come out, I'm seeing Karen". This was true in many ways, after all she was a very large girl and it was hard not to see her. It got to the point where we would go for weeks at a time without seeing Steve. He was lost to us, only venturing out on those rare occasions that Karen felt like undoing the leash for a few hours.

I started going out with Claire, and the four of us did things as couples. This was sort of cool because I would get to hang with my bro, but it did also mean listening to her interminable attempts at conversation.

On occasion I would talk to Karen whilst Steve was in the vicinity, and she would come out with some very weird things that were totally unrelated to whatever we were talking about: "I do love Steve, but I don't want him to be the last person that I sleep with" was one of her catchphrases. When she started working at a local Cider farm she began to regale us with stories of all these "fit blokes" that were working on the farm and how she would love to shag them. Steve was not present for most of these stories. Basically, the picture I am trying to paint is of a fat cunt who didn't care about what she was saying, just as long as she was getting some attention.

The breaking point for me came when she tried to tell Claire and I that our ex-friend Gareth (whom Claire had gone out with for a short while and who was obsessed with her, to the point of stalking) was a nice guy and we had treated him badly, in not so many words. I say "In not so many words" because she didn't have a very good understanding of the English language and it was a labour for her to string a couple of words together and have them make sense to anyone with half a brain.

Steve and Karen had been going out for well over a year when Steve came to our house in the third year. By this point I was sans girlfriend so I didn't have any real contact with Steve and Karen (they all lived together, see). Steve sat down with us and was on the verge of tears. He had decided that he wanted to break up with Karen. We told him a few home truths: about the stories of her wanting to shag anyone that walked in the room, about how she didn't want Steve to be the last person she ever slept with. I even told him something that I had found out from Claire: that when Karen first met me she fancied me more than Steve. This fact made me very repulsed.

Steve was incensed at her escapades. When he finally calmed down he thanked us for telling him the truth about her, and he said he would be round later on that day to have a few drinks and celebrate singledom.

Steve didn't come back round. Steve didn't call us. Steve had told Karen everything that we had told him, and it all kicked off majorly. Steve was somehow turned against us, Karen had managed to lie her way out of it. Karen spoke to Simon and told him that she wanted him to pay her for letting Steve use her car to help us out when we got stuck in the middle of nowhere. She wanted £50 for her generosity. We told her to stick it up her poisoned cunt.

After this incident we very rarely heard from Steve. We certainly weren't allowed anywhere near his house because Karen would have gone mental. We graduated a few months later. Steve was at my graduation ceremony and we had a really awkward and stunted conversation. Since then I can count on one finger the number of times we have spoken. Steve and Karen have since broken up. I hear they still keep in touch, and I wonder why Steve would want to remember the time wasted with that manatee whore.

When I was in my third year of University, my photographer friend Simon was struggling to come up with ideas of things to take pictures of for his final project. He always had an interest in architecture, and his photos of buildings were always good. He told me about this place called Baldhu (pronounced bell-dew) that was off the main road between Falmouth and Truro.

At Baldhu there is a church, there are stories of pagan rituals being carried out in the grounds, people breaking in and decorating the interior with pentagrams, and animal sacrifices. On top of this there were also stories about the church being haunted by the ghost of one of the parsons. We simply had to check it out.

So we packed up Simon's car with photography gear, torches, candles, glowsticks, and loads of other cool things. We took Simon's girlfriend Rebecca and our housemate Chazz. We left when it got dark, probably around 10:30pm.

When we arrived the place was pretty darned spooky, that's for sure. It was quite a way from civilisation, a good 5 miles or so. We pulled up and I immediately wanted to run around in the dark checking out all the badass gnarly haunted stuff. What I didn't know was that there was a small cemetary round the back of the church, well futile!

We unpacked all the garb, took some photos, ran around with glowsticks, and generally had a good old time. Rebecca was getting scared by the whole atmosphere, and we weren't really helping. She made Simon put the car headlights on so that it was a bit easier to see. Remember this act later...

We took some cool photos, and I went wandering off into the dark for a bit. It was quite creepy. Some other people turned up, curious to see what the fuss was about the church. We were taken aback at first, but we chatted to them and they went on their way.

It got to about midnight and we decided to pack all the stuff up and get home. With the car fully loaded, we got in and Simon went to start the engine...

Now, remember that the car headlights had been on for almost 2 hours. The battery had run flat from this headlight tomfoolery. Well I can't tell you how annoyed I was. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a sketchy little churchyard, no one around for miles... Well, there was a house just up the road from the church, so we called in on the owner to see if he had a set of jump leads... No such luck.

We pushed the car up to the junction at the end of the road in the hope of flagging a passing motorist. Well it wasn't the busiest road in the world, but people were passing by every 10 minutes or so. We tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to stop someone to get some help. We were lucky if the people stopped, and to be honest I don't blame them for not wanting to stop, given the situation. One car slowed right down, then as I went to explain the beef, they laughed in my face and sped off. Bastards.

It was getting later now, as it tends to do on most days of the week. I elected to walk the 4 or 5 miles back to the main road and purchase some jump leads from the petrol station. Chazz elected to come with me. Simon and Rebecca stayed at the car with my phone to try to get a hold of a friend who had a car.

Walking in the pitch black with a pissy little torch was pretty surreal. Every so often we'd hear noises emanating from the bushes, very uncool. Cars would pass with decreasing regularity, and our attempts to flag them down were increasingly futile. After about 3 miles Chazz got a call from Simon; Rebecca was freaking out big time, shitting herself really. Simon had a massive argument with her and was sulking outside the car, which gave her the heebie jeebies even moreso, being stuck in a car on her own. But he had some good news, he had managed to track down some jump leads from a friend of ours.

Dan had a set of leads, which was ace. Unfortunately he was very drunk, which wasn't so ace. We needed to secure a vehicle for Dan's jump leads, because walking to and from Falmouth would have taken hours indeed. And also we needed a car with which to jump from. Simon got a hold of Steve, woke him up in fact. He borrowed his girlfriend's car (something which would later come back to haunt us in the form of a dispute, she was a cunt), and picked up Dan.

The problem was, they didn't know how to get to the church. What a saga.

So me and Chazz walked the rest of the way to the main road and found a nice place to sit and wait for Steve and Dan to arrive, at which point we would board the car and direct them to the rendez-vous point.

This happened swiftly and efficiently, and in no time we were back with Simon and Rebecca. We jump started Simon's car, thanked Steve and Dan profusely, and set about driving home.

The reason I don't want to add much more music to it is because it often decides to reset itself. This is highly annoying, and is the reason that I refer to it as a "well volatile" PC. I don't know why it does it so much, but it might be something to do with overheating. I have had it switched off for a couple of days and it is yet to reset itself on my watch. Not on my watch.

If I ask it to do something demanding such as add some music or play some porn, it effectively says "You're 'aving a bubble, guv'nor" and the resetting process begins. Sometimes, during The Great Reset Of 2007, it will reset itself again and get stuck in a loop of resetting itself. This is indubitably irksome. I am going to buy a new PC soon; soon I am going to buy a new PC.

Today I went to visit my friend Simon in East Grinstead. The meeting had been arranged primarily through Facebook. This was pleasing to my phone credit as I did not, initially, have to call him to arrange the visit. I did call him this morning to see if he was awake. He was awake.

I drove over there and got barked at by his silly dogs who know who I am, but they bark at me so that Simon will give them dog biscuits to shut them up. They are conniving canines.

Simon suggested that we visit Tunbridge Wells. Who am I to shun suggestions? So I drove to Tunbridge Wells. I hadn't been there in years. We're talking about 15 years, maybe more. I parked on the top floor of a multi-storey car park, it was fun. We did some shop browsing and I offered to buy lunch because Simon is a poor student. We went to Wagamama and I had this chicken rice curry thing, it was bloody lovely. After this I bought a bottle of Tizer. I hadn't had Tizer in years, and now I wish I had kept it that way.

Then I drove Simon home and wended my merry way home. I arrived home at 16:15pm exactly, which was a good sign. Since then I have eaten 3 tacos and some Ricicles, watched a couple of Arrested Development episodes and played Guitar Hero 2.

When I was perhaps two years old, I was at Chessington Zoo being carted around in a buggy. I recall pondering on the Gorillas from afar, they seemed absolutely massive, like King Kong. As I was watching these huge hominids, a group of schoolgirls approached the enclosure. I remember their uniform, they were from St. Philomena's. I did not know this at the time, but years later I would have a flashback of this very event upon seeing that awful brown uniform.

The schoolgirls, in typical curious fashion, began goading the large male Gorilla. They were pointing at his Kong Dong and laughing. This is not very nice when it happens to you. The male Gorilla was not best pleased at their incessant giggling.

The Gorilla picked up a large pile of his faeces and hurled it directly at the group of girls. He enjoyed this immensely and proceeded to throw more of his bum mud at them. By the time the girls had managed to flee, he had made a veritable exhibition out of them. I remember that one girl's face was smothered in his poo.

I had to go to the allergy clinic to be re-tested for all my inhalant allergens. The skin testing took roughly 3 hours and 8 square inches of arm space. Once this was done I was provided with a vial of allergen vaccine and sent packing. I celebrated by eating a fillet tower.

When I returned home, no later than 12:45pm, I found that something joyous had occurred; some more DVDs had been delivered. This is down to the reason that this past weekend I spent a couple of minutes purchasing DVDs on Amazon.co.uk. I had seen an advert for a DVD called Barrio 19, which showcases street performers doing all sorts of things ranging from beatboxin', Le Parkour, breakin', skatin', in-linin', rappin', and many many more things. I omitted the "N"'s for street cred purposes. I decided to buy this DVD, which proved to be a bargain as it was sitting on a "3 for £15" offer. Here is how the whole debacle unfolded:

Barrio 19
Collateral Two Disc Edition
Jackass Volume One

To be perfectly honest and frank, there were not a whole load of DVDs worth getting on this "3 for £15" offer, mainly due to the fact that I already own the best ones out of the lot. Check my bad self.

I have since watched one episode of Barrio 19 and it was proper good mate. Well chuff.

Last night I watched Severance and it was pretty good. I liked the whole Eastern Bloc feel to it. I like Eastern Bloc. I like the Eastern Bloc ladies, they're well buff.

Tonight I will settle down for a couple of episodes of Arrested Development. I watched two last night with my brother in tow, and how we did laugh. We're trying not to spank all the episodes in one go, but it's so jolly hard to refrain. So jolly hard to refrain.

Here's the latest on the events leading up to today.

Friday:

Had a half day. Played some Xbox 360 until 7pm, then went out for drinks with some work friends, namely Paul and Jan. Jan's friend Aidan came along. He's a nice enough chap. Then we were dragged along to Liquid/Envy in Redhill because Jan hadn't been there before. I learnt that some people turn violent after Sambuca, this was the case with Aidan, who started talking about the best way to beat people up. He also threw chewing gum at an Indian man. I got home at about 4:30am on Saturday morning.

Saturday:

Achieved a whole 3 hours of sleep. Woke up and played Wii against my brother, who has become very good in a short space of time. Then we went out for breakfast. When we got back I fell asleep in front of the TV for a few hours. I woke up and went to bed for a couple of hours. Then I got up and had some dinner. I was very tired, you see, so I had to go back to bed.

Sunday:

Woken up by Satpaul asking how to get back to Banstead from Reigate. The stations around his domicile had been closed for maintenance, see? This proved problematic as the buses do not run on Sundays. I offered to pick him up from the station and drop him home. This offer is what transpired in the end. Half asleep, I took him home. Had lunch later on, then dropped my Nan off home. Went round Satpauls and played some Pro Evo, had some food, went for a few drinks. There were these Czech/Russian girls in the pub, which was weird. They made no effort to hide their interest in us. I felt like an exhibition when we left, they were all staring out the window, trying to see which car I drive. Then they waved us off. Nice.

Monday:

Like I said, if you had listened, I slept in until 1pm. Then I went to buy some DVDs. Here is what I bought:

Severance
The Last Kiss
Wayne's World 1 & 2 Boxset
American Graffiti
Arrested Development Season 3

The first three were on a "3 for £20" offer, which was most enjoyable. American Graffiti was £3 only. Arrested Development was by far and away the most expensive at a whopping £35. This was a bit of a swizz because it's only really half a season, weighing in at a paltry 13 episodes compared to the usual 20+. Still, I had HMV vouchers to use, £60 worth. This more than covered the outlay of £58. Because they can't give cash money as change, I had to settle for a £2 gift card. This is very rubbish as I am sure to lose the offending article in time.

Now I am working on some remixes of songs by Steven Paul Allen. I hope to have these finalised in the near future.

It all started like this:

Yesterday I picked my brother up from the airport once I had finished work. The timing was absolutely impeccable, second to none really. I left work at 5:45pm, I had the notion that it would take him a solid half hour, if not more, to collect his luggage and meet me at the "Strictly No Waiting" drop off point where I always wait. Sometimes I wait here for hours on end, just raging against the machine.

The very moment I had pulled up, I scored a full house when I looked out the rear view mirror to see my bro' walking up the golden pathway. Well, this was music to my ears. He deposited his luggage in the boot of my car, and we sped off, natch.

Got home, had food, watched tv. Bought Jackass 2 which will keep me entertained this afternoon when I get in from work. I have a half day today which is glorious. I also have all of next week off which is ten times more glorious, literally.

One day I was asked to retrieve some chicken from the industrial size walk-in freezer. As I went to do this, the door slammed shut. I pressed the red emergency button to open the door and escape to victory, but the door only opened about 8 inches. The Irish gits had placed a table in front of the door, trapping me inside. I was left in there for almost 90 minutes, wearing only my chef whites. It's like wearing pyjamas.

Another time, I told the head chef that I needed a particular Thursday off to collect my GCSE results. He said "That's fine, but you have to do a double shift on Wednesday to make up for it". This double shift involved working 5am - 3pm then 5pm - 12am. I ended up working until 3am. What should have been 17 hours of work turned into 20 hours. That's more than illegal, considering I had only recently turned 16.

On a separate occasion, I came into work after having done an "evening shift" the day before, only to be greeted by a list of "Things that need to be done before you leave at 3pm". This list took me the entire day to do and involved some of the following tasks:

Yet another time, I went into work with a slight hangover. As I was cleaning the main grease trap (connected to the big dishwasher to catch all the bits of food and oil), I was overcome with nausea at the sheer smell. I vomited all over the place. They thought it was shit from the grease trap.

And the final thing, which contributed to my leaving, involved the two Irish bastards. They threw wet cornflour all over the 2nd chef's car. Then they blamed it on me. When the 2nd chef tried to remove the cornflour, it took off most of his paintwork. I tried to plead my innocence, but they were adamant that it was me.

I was later cleared of this offence, but I had made my mind up to quit. Instead of giving two weeks' notice, I gave them 2 minutes and quickly fucked off home.

This just in:

This weekend I have had a steady amount of drinking, followed by equal parts of lounging around. If you add a sprinkling of Xbox 360 and a dash of televisual consumption, you have a lovely little medley indeed. Mmmmm, that hit the spot!

Friday:

They let us go early from work because the system was down. It was great, I'm still elated.

Saturday:

Woke up proper late, I tell thee. Didn't have a shower until 3pm, because I'm a bloody bloke. Went out drinking in Reigate in the evening, it was problematic not having anything for dinner. This contributed to my inebriation in ways that you can only begin to imagine.

Sunday:

Woke up rather late, I tell thee. Didn't have a shower until 2:30pm. Went for a lovely drive in the country with the windows down and the stereo up. Around 7pm I started watching "Casino Royale", but I had to cut this short to go to the pub. When I returned at 10:30pm, I continued my little tryst with James. We finished bang on midnight, the clock read 00:00.

So I watched a bit of a documentary called "Wal-Mart: The High Cost Of Low Price". It was rather upsetting to see family businesses, that had thrived for upwards of 40 years, become closed down by Wal-Mart stores with their low prices and non-existent morals. I never realised that when people talk about the soulless nature of corporate America, that Wal-Mart was the catalyst. Still, the more you know, I guess.

After watching 67 minutes of this film, I decided that I was going to have a shower. Seeing as I had been in my pyjamas until 2:30, it was high time that I should get washed and dressed. I even had a shave.

As a child, I recall being terrified at the prospect of shaving. I used to see the adverts and think "Why would I want to drag a knife over my face?". I used to watch my Dad shaving, petrified that he would slip and kill himself. I thought shaving was such a dangerous act that only the most skilled individual could complete the task without slicing his own throat open. I think this belief stemmed from hearing the story of Sweeney Todd.

Coincidentally I also thought that to get into and out of a squash court, you had to be lowered in/lifted out. This belief came from playing a squash game on the Commodore 64 and wondering where the entrance for the court was.

I did go to the pub last night but I was driving so I didn't drink anything. Met up with Rich, Satpaul and Natasha. It was good, haven't seen Natasha in ages. She told me a story about someone that she had "awkward dinner" with. I think it was a "date", but I can't be sure because I haven't been on one of those "date" things for quite some time. I do recall having "awkward lunch" with that crazy stalker who kicked me in the gonads.

I got in at 11:30pm, had a little browse of a few blogs, and then played EA Sports Fight Night Round 3 for an hour or so. I also downloaded and listened to that "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" song. I was reading the lyrics to that song earlier in the day and remembered that it was pretty good.

One of my Caspian albums finally came yesterday. It had been delivered to our neighbours, who proceeded to stuff the package and a dozen other letters into our post box. This was done to such a degree that someone walking past would have been able to snatch away said package and letters. Although I would be pleased that I had somehow shared some good music, it would leave me a tenner down and without a CD. It was lucky, then, that things transpired the way that they did.

At 8:15 I came around
And glanced at my clock
And when I saw what time it was
I cried aloud with shock

I rushed up from my slumber sack
With a massive burst of power
I ran half naked from my room
And jumped into the shower

I had to work quite quickly
Time was running lean
I shampooed and shower gelled and scrubbed
And showered myself clean

I brushed my teeth and combed my hair
And flossed with reckless force
I made haste to my bedroom
And my clothing I did sort

I dressed myself and sang a song
Hair styled on my own accord
I grabbed my bag and flew downstairs
And set a new record

I sped quite hastily down the road
Although I had time to spare
And when I parked my car at work
Hardly anyone was there

It's the first new work I have done in over a week.

I've been listening to a compendium of tracks we have made in the last couple of weeks. So far there are 7 Gang Of Clowns tracks (made by myself) and 6 Mad Stamper tracks, made by Steven Paul Allen himself. One of these days we will have enough material for an album.

1. Prospective partners must have a good sense of humour.

2. Prospective partners should not take offence at swear words (examples of these words include: fuck, shit, cunt, etc.).

3. Prospective partners must have a good taste in music, and also an openness to listen to new music. Especially instrumental music in the vein of "Post Rock".

4. Prospective partners must enjoy playing video games. This can include all manner of retro and current video game consoles.

5. Prospective partners must be prepared to engage in prolonged conversation on the following subjects:

Video Games
Music
Children's TV programmes from the 80's
Films (especially World Cinema)
Certain sports (Cricket, Football, Rugby)

6. Prospective partners must enjoy some of the following activites to an accomplished degree:

Shopping
Listening to music
Watching films
Long, aimless driving trips
Nature photography

7. Prospective partners must have a sympathy towards hayfever sufferers, and adjust their activity schedules accordingly to these allergies.

If you think you have what it takes, please apply. Your application will be treated with the strictest confidence.

Thank you for your time.