Back to Blog.

After receiving complaints that I hadn't posted on my blog in a while I decided that it really was time to get back blogging before the death threats started...again.

It's been nearly a week since I last posted. Why is this? I hear your imaginary voices ask. Well it's pretty simple really. I've become an Ipod addict. We have just recently caught up with the relatively old technology of wifi now. So my Ipod touched has now become pretty much all I'm on when I'm at home. Now you see this wouldn't be overly bad (well apart from the small screen killing my eyes, likelyhood of my dropping it down the bog and the fact the daily mail has probably published another fear mongering article about how it apparently will give you cancer/get you raped/cause your children to grow up to smash bus shelters and do drugs). Recently I've become a bit of an addict to one game in particular. This game, called Pigrush, might be known to some of you, who, like me can't actually get off their Ipods. There is something I find rather satisfying about helping this cute little thing get to freedom and no this is not the part where I try to get more views by revealing how I shockingly have a fetish for pigs.

I have a feeling it might be down to my vegetarianism. To watch what is effectively several pounds of bacon butty running its little way to freedom...
...Or maybe I do have a fetish for pigs...

Some of the more perceptive of you might have noticed my little dig at the daily mail.

I thought it might be fair to put things right and to reflect my repentance to what is, apparently, a quality broadsheet. I will try and listen to their meaningful words of wisdom. From now on I'll;

- Be casually racist to just about to everyone. They're in MY country so why not?

- Go out completely covered in Bubble wrap, amour plating and rape alarm. Because lets face it. It's either a Lampost, a Chav or a Gay that might get me on my way to get my wonderful wheely bins in MY OWN FRONT GARDEN!

- Take up Necromancy in hopes to raise Diana from the dead.

- Or sit in the corner and cry knowing whatever I drink/eat/use will probably result in me getting a range of wonderfully exotic diseases, STIs or famously cancer.

Some of you might be thinking that was just jumping on a bit of a bandwagon. Where we burn copies of the daily mail and scream how its all one big lie. Maybe I am jumping on a bandwagon. Or rather I ran after the bandwagon, realised that due to my horrendous fitness I couldn't keep up and just sort of collapsed by the roadside.

Recently I've been getting a lot of hate on my little wall of hate (a.k.a formspring) my favorite one so far has been;

ffs, stop with all the mum jokes. It's not funny and quite frankly immature. - anonymous

Your Mum's immature. - Adam Legg

I personally found that quite funny and sat there giggling manically to myself for about 10 minutes. I have quite warmed to the idea that I am probably going insane. This was after a particular episode where I found myself gurgling the theme of blue peter in my barthroom mirror for an extended period of time. (Actually probably about 10 minutes as well... I'm starting to see a pattern!)

You may have noticed a spelling error in the previous paragraph. This was to show how I pronounce "Bathroom" and that I'm damn proud of it!

I can only apologuise for the bad formatting of this post. I have just tried to rectify it but it seems that blogspot hates my posts and wants to sabotage them in anyway possible.

That will be all. TTFN. TTYL. BYE. C U. SAFE. KEEP IT REAL. KEEP SLAMMING THE HO'S. PEACE OUT. WORD BRO. YO MAN LET'S GET OUT OF HERE. WORD TO YO' MOTHER. I'LL BE BACK.

Don't you love it when a plan comes together?

Adam x