|This morning I watched Sally's Caught on Tape: Shocking Moments! It featured a woman being attacked by a shark, live on home video. Personally, I'd have shot it differently. At least I would if the industry wasn't such a fucking sham. Got a letter back from Ian Gastor at Fox today: liked my show reel but they don't have any 'suitable projects' for me right now. Grrrr! Suitable fucking projects. Wankers. I can turn a paw to one of their shit mini series without even breaking sweat. Bastard may as well have written "we're not interested in hiring your sort."
This shark attack, it was pathetic. Pitiful minnow � one claw could open it up like a zip but the woman kept on screaming. Pah!
I'm starting to slip. This world isn't for me. I need a good war. Can't use me in Iraq; apparently, the US military's public liability insurance won't cover bears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Byrnison, you're just too ursine". Had to look it up. Major Idiot. General Fuck! Should have plucked off his smug head using his spine and sucked him dry like a popsicle.
Putting on weight. Look like Bungle. Armour needs a fucking lake of Brasso. Have you seen Battlestar Galactica? I mean, Christ, where's the tension? Where's the narrative. Which dumb assed suit decided to make Starbuck a woman! Give me the second series and I'll have them crawling up your behind to commission a third. Oh, I forgot, I'm "too big to fit in the edit suite"! How dumb do these granite heads think I am? I can see it in their eyes. They see the show reel and they're expecting some tasty Scandi auteur; they get eleven feet of chubby killer with a rusty shield. The work, you bigoted bastards, look at the work!
Haven't trimmed for a fortnight: look at the white wookie with a welcome mat of shit in tow. Losing it. Need to get back. No one 'gets' me here. Playing pranks that aren't funny to keep myself amused. Blasted out Heard it Through the Grape Vine in the launderette yesterday. Stripped off my armour and just threw it in the dryer. Danced around in my birthday suit until a woman called the police. Tried to pretend it was a candid camera show I was pitching but they're pressing charges.
Haven't spoken to anyone but stuck-up P.A.s and the police for a month now. Not since Nicola's mum told her to stay away from me. Kid was a sweetheart. All she wanted was a cuddle. The rest of them are evil. Tiny, evil devils. The ones by the chicken shop call me Cujo or Whinne Poo Butt. Top drawer commedians. They should write for Leno. The ugliest tied a firework to me when I fell asleep in the park. Limping now. Doctor told me to piss off and find a vet. "Do I look like Daktari, to you?" Waiting room had a real good laugh at that one.
You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me, you horrible, horrible little filth. Do you know that? These streets, those trees, the fucking air you're breathing. It's all�I'm going to lose it and take a bus queue out, I really am. It's too much to bear. HA! Ah ha, ahahahahahaha! Too much to bear! I'm fucking... RRRAAAAAAAGHHHHH!