I wish I could think of a decent title.

With the encouraging words of Alexander Schuch still firmly ingrained in my memory I set to work writing the first blog I have written in a while.

No excuses its probably got a lot to do with the general laziness I've been suffering that I haven't actually done another blog. Or that I've only ever had like 3 comments ever! People say they have read them and thought they were really good yet I have no comments!

The best place to start would probably be the events of today, which started badly after I forgot that the church service I had meant to be doing sound desk on was moved to Alty Methodist Church. The silver lining to this was that I went campaigning with the Labour Party (Woo!) and Broadheath was full of the sounds of the general public being harassed by a bunch of people who had far too much energy for a Sunday morning!

After that my family (or rather my mum) was insistent that we went out for lunch. We were originally meant to be visiting Bocadillo's in the village; but finding that closed we went further afield.

This was when my Mum revealed to us that she didn't feel suitably dressed or prepared for an actual restaurant and so 2 o'clock found her wallowing in the ambiance of the Tesco café eating jacket potato with the rest of us deciding that maybe it wasn't so bad at all.

Yesterday an event happened that had been waiting a while. I, by a slip of the tongue, called Anne Black... Mum.

I was on Skype to Emily and we had been talking earlier about how I sometimes practically live at her house. True as this may be maybe I shouldn't go round as often before I forget where I actually live.

I went down to watch telly with my actual parents later wondering if I would feel any bond of familiarity with them at all!

This week I have been looking at the world of the automobile. I've been trawling through www.Autotrader.co.uk trying to find a possible car for me to drive. After the millionth page of ford fiesta's I found possibly the worst car in the world.

http://www.autotrader.co.uk/classified/advert/201044372382432/sort/priceasc/usedcars/make/aixam/postcode/wa157al/keywords/group%203/page/1/radius/1500?logcode=p

This car has;

- A top speed of 56mph (so litterally 0-60 in like never!)

- An engine you'd probably find in a lawnmower with about 21bhp.

And let's face it. Any car with "boot carpet" listed in its features is getting pretty desperate!

On the flip side it's an automatic and is all yours for £1790.

On the other hand you'll have grannies overtaking you on the inside lane whilst their mates, stuffed in the back with their morrisons and B'n'M bargains bags, swear at you through the back window.

Recently I have discovered the wonder that is Skype. (Recently being since my last blog). Skype basically lets you talk to people via the wonder that is the internet! Unfortunately my girlfriend's skype keeps going on and off. I have actually started to just to count until she goes offline again. It's rather frustrating for her. Mildly amusing for me as it winds her up to no end. It's even funnier because you can do this thing called screen share which means that the other person can see what you're doing on your screen. I am using this as a form of torture as she can see what is being written AND HAS NO WAY OF STOPPING IT MWHAHAHAHA! ... apart from blackmail.

... which she is rather good at. Because she is a horrible person.

I am also a horrible person because I am enjoying this. I guess that's why we're still together.

(Emily: God knows why) (Adam: I'm sure he does but because you're an atheist he doesn't think you exist)

Religion is an interesting topic. Not many comedians venture out into what is effectively an

Indiana Jones tunnel of death with a rolling Pope chasing them. However some do. Eddie Izzard for example likes the idea of a god of chaos who sits in a caravan somewhere in the universe and goes "I made that? I dunno did I?" *Emily's internet fails* Maybe God is punishing me. He certainly seemed hellbent that I was not going to be going to church today. (Maybe he thinks I'm a bad influence on the old people there) First I overslept, second of all it tipped it down and when I finally arrived. Nobody was there. Instead a polite little notice informed me that the service had been moved to Alty Methodist Church and nobody had deigned to tell me (or maybe I just forgot... who knows? Apparently him but I received no memo from the guy in the sky)

You might notice that my spelling is rather good in this Blog. This is because I now have my own little voice making sure I stay on the straight and narrow with Emily on this screen sharing thing on Skype who seems to be going pedal to the metal to make sure my spelling is correct. GRAMMAR NAZI! (Emily: well you're the English Student!)

It's kind of like having your teacher staring over your shoulder and reading everything you've said. I can also tell her reaction to everything I've said as she is in a wonderful little box to the right of my screen. Which also means I can see the guy in her cupboard that she's been "babysitting" with again! (Emily: No you can't because I'm on the floor) (Adam: So there IS a guy in your cupboard then?) *Emily's internet dies* (Emily: kills self)

I hope by my little brackets you can see my relationship with Emily *Emily's internet dies* as a sort of voice over my shoulder thing... *Emily's internet dies* (Adam: this is actually quite funny... except its not because I have to put the effort in of actually putting her back on screen share. It's like trying to hang a cup on a rail that's slanted. You know the cups going to fall off and you'll have to pick it up and... (Emily: Oh so you have to put effort in to putting me back on the screen? Am I that much of a burden?) (Adam: No dear...) yeh its always going to fall off...

Any how I will now love you and leave you as I am going to get back to watching Emily get increasingly frustrated with her internet. Which, as it turns out, is actually quite fun!

Adam xxx

A conclusion is the place where you get tired of thinking. x

Life, my garden and phone contracts.

Recently I've been looking out into my garden and realising that perhaps doing in the rain wasn't such a good idea after all. Usually you might say that people "mow" the lawn. Occasionally one man and his dog though I've never quite got what the dog did in that little relationship... and what does Noah need with 500 hammers?
Anyway, to say that I had mown the lawn might be somewhat of an understatement. The phrase one might look for when describing the current state of my garden might be that I have pretty much massacred the grass. No living thing was spared the wrath of my Lawnmower as I churned up mud, grass and nearly bits of slide in my crusade against the evils of my backyard which now looks like its been used as a mud wrestling arena for that guy with the wheelbarrow...
Tuesday was somewhat of an eventful day. I have recently changed onto a Virgin Mobile deal and as such I wanted to get my PAC code from T-mobile to Virgin ASAP. After 5 minutes of frankly torture at the hands of Richard Branson's crap choice in phone music I finally got through to someone. (The 1 button to change music does not work after, in a fit of near suicidalness [if thats a word] I decided to mash it at the same pace a person who might be have a cardiac arrest.) The person then said they couldn't help me because I wasn't "the account holder" FML. "Okay I'll just go get my dad...*hang up*"
After a few seconds deliberation, I decided to ring up again.
5 minutes of crap Jazz music later I finally got through to someone and had the problem solved in less than a minute. Well when I say "I" I actually mean "Nigel Legg" if you catch my drift. "Hello my name is Nigel Legg and I'd like to get my son's PAC number sorted out... Yes Yes the whole family's getting theirs sorted out you see. It's me, my err Son and my Mu... Wife yesss. Ahh you see? We talk on similar wavelengths"
Anyway yes that was that and I should be back on my original number on the 18th :D
I'm not saying I advocate lying to Virgin and Richard Branson with his slick smile and blond locks. I'm saying that pretending your mother is your wife is an image I might need to have therapy about later in my life.
I have another invention for Dragons Den. It's an FML key on the keyboard. This is because I swear people these days seem to be using the acronym way more than the letter "x" or "z".
Infact we could get rid of "z" and replace it with FML. It might just work. Or as a more positive initiative replace the FML key with a smiley face hich might make Emo's think of heir lives in a more positive manner AND STOP FILLING UP MY NEWS FEED WITH YOUR SENSELESS MOANING.
Jeez. You make Bella look like a reasonably happy person.
I have decided that I might start to enjoy post marital bliss. That is, if anyone is crazy enough to want to put up with me for the rest of my life.
I think I should just stick with the hope of a "care in the community scheme" going horribly out of control.
With this in mind I have already decided that, once married I will probably eat my way into oblivion.
So today Dragons I bring before you a device that some of you might find attractive when you one day decide to give up and impersonate Eric Pickles.
I call it the Fat Roller; They are professionally trained men (and women) who will roll you wherever you need to go. You will never have to walk anywhere again. AND you can spend the whole trip lying down. Their fee will include life insurance just in case you roll back on top of them. Job done.
That's where I'll leave you tonight Ladies and Gentlewomen.

Adam xx

...I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous.

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

Friday morning fml.

Some of you who know me well might know I actually have four frees today and, as such, I don't actually need to be in school until 2.15. Those same few people might look at the time this blog was written and wonder "what the hell was he doing up THEN?".
Believe me, it's been a question I've been asking myself for the past hour.
I woke up this morning to the sight of ipod headphones. Yet no ipod. I vaguely remember unplugging the headphones and looking at the ipod but after then I have no idea. After searching high and low for about 20mins and clearing out the bed underneath I have yet to find it, which is why I propose that all expensive small equipment is fitted with some sort of ring tone. Maybe I should go to the dragon's with this brilliant idea. "...and er yes dragons my idea today is to put a ring tone on all small products such as ipods, glasses, keys and your sense of humor. Which you seem to have lost a while ago." I suppose we could have all sorts of little ringtones. Some of which may, once you have located the lost item, may want to make you throw it against a convenient wall... I'm still working on something for the deaf.
For those of you that might have watched his live shows Micheal Mcintyre is a very funny man, with his wobbly hair and a twitch like a crack dealer. However he once suggested something that made my trip down Brooklands road on an unusally dry, cheshire morning, something of a quicker ordeal. It all started with the fact I currently have a pain in my ankle which I have a feeling is caused by my school shoes. Well it actually started about 17 years ago. Well actually before that, but for the sake of my breakfast please...
Anyway I took them to school in a sainsbury's carrier bag. My little brother had also forgot his boots for that morning. So I also took them to school in another sainsbury's carrier bag. I found that Micheal's words of wisdom on the swinging the arms front worked quite well with two carrier bags, so picture if you will. Me, in a suit and battered Airwalks, Ipod headphones in, madly swinging these bags about in order to gain more forward momentum, getting odd looks from the drivers, even, at one point when I thought nobody was looking, adding the skipping element to my cocktail of speed enhancing genius which I found to be quite an error. The first problem was that it created too much forward momentum, put me off balance, at which point I fell over. The second problem was I was wrong when I thought nobody was watching as an elderly woman was just coming out of her house and was currently giggling to herself.
She might be crazy and thought I was a leprechaun. We can hope.
Now that I am up and about, I have just had a lecture from my dad about how home frees are "study periods and should be used as such". Which to me translated as home frees are "study periods until I bugger off out and then you can do whatever the fuck you want". So I have made the excuse that this blog is helping me improve my journalistic skills (long word there) and am sat here until he goes out at which point I might go back to bed... and look for my ipod.
(THAT WAS NOT A SEXUAL INNUENDO).
Anyway I have run out of things to write about, or energy, or maybe I want to go look for my ipod...
Wish me Luck and as usual I'll leave you with a few words.

They say two days ago tomorrow was a good day.
I remember it like it was yesterday.

Adam x

What am I thinking?

Well for my sake I hope that Psychic that I put a notice for last blog will hurry up. I have no idea what I'm thinking of writing today... and yet still no messages inside my head from any passing telepath. I was planning today on what I was going to write. I even had an intro sorted in my head but now it's gone!
Well I can just keep talking (or writing as the case may be!) and hope the light dawns sooner or later. Wouldn't bet on it though. I've been waiting 17 years...
Mary has just been watching this awful program on the television. It's called Francis and is about a badger that sings along to classical music. It wouldn't be a bad program if it wasn't drowned out by a low grinding sound as Beethoven and Bach roll over in their graves. By the end of the program they're probably practically spinning tops. Actually I take that back...
It'd still be a shite program.
Children's TV has quite a lot of imported crap these days. I remember "back in the day" when we had Playdays and Thomas the Tank Engine. I think maybe if Mary watched some quality TV than other crap American show which teaches kids how to speak bloody japanese whilst standing on their Fecking heads.
To be honest its hard to know what to actually write about at the moment. I think I have writers block and like Rob Bee I've decided it's your fault. Why? Because I'm writing and your reading. If you weren't reading, I wouldn't be writing but I like writing and (hopefully) you like reading. Would be nice if I got a comment every once in a while. I like it when people come up to me and talk about my blogs (now up to a mighty three when I publish this one) but yeh it would nice if it didn't look like I was writing to myself.
Thought to be honest writing to yourself can't be that much different than talking to yourself so I'm pretty much already there.
Actually we should blame the psychic; for simply not telling me what I'm thinking. God! what am I paying him an hour?
Okay I pay him in biscuits. THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION. (actually feel free I just won't listen. JEREMY IS MINE)
I've just had an automated message on the phone. I was actually wondering what the best way to deal with a sales person actually is. A favorite of mine was from my girlfriends dad "Hello? Yes I'm just about to make love to my secretary. Okay thank you goodbye."
My Grandma, the rebellious person that she is, puts them on the side and apparently they'll happily talk for a while...
Does anyone have any suggestions for future ones I could do on anyone that calls? I always seem to be in when they all call. It's a bit of a disappointment to be honest with you. "Oh the phone?" *runs over to the phone* "Hello?" "Hi I'm calling from BT" You feel like just wanting to just blow up the phone. Such a let down.
Okay you're angry but I agree with Lee Evans. The problem with these wireless phones is that you can't slam them down! It's like yeh "FUCK YOU"... and you look for the receiver but its at the other end of the room and it's like "Yeh give me a second whilst I just get to the receiver. AWKWARD!
I'm going to end it there. However the thought for the day is...
Bigamy: one wife too many.
Monogamy: same thing

Much love
Adam x

My life is a party.

As much as I know you all like my little blogs popping up on your "what I'm following" feed I will try and make sure this isn't quite a daily thing (unless I get any requests/hints/death threats). Anyway today I, like most of the populations less rebellious youth, (did I really just use the word "youth"? Bloody Hell! I'll be needing a bleeding pension next!) decided to drag myself out of bed at some godforsaken hour and where we grab a shower, attempt to shave ourselves with toothpaste, fall asleep in our breakfast and wander out of the door with no pants on...
Those familiar with the Brooklands area in Cheshire will know of a the dreaded "Brooklands Road" which runs for about a mile and a half from Brooklands roundabout to Brooklands station (we're very creative with names in Cheshire). That road has a time space continuum all of its own! You can be walking down there for what seems to you to be about half an hour and you will come out with a bigass beard and Grandkids.
I remember back in summer after my Ipod had been helpfully mugged from me on that same road I decided that walking to school needed spicing up. So I borrowed my Dad's old portable Radio. (My life is a party). The first day I "borrowed" it I couldn't find my headphones so I was walking along Brooklands Road with this portable Radio held out in front of me getting many a strange looks from the drivers in the endless traffic that seems to pile up on there which was probably due to the fact I kept loosing signal, stopping and waving it about a bit and at one point giving it a slap. (Good old British "it'll work if I bloody smack it one" knowhow). Looking back on this I should've probably gone up to one of the cars and pretended it was some sort of scanning device and "examined" their cars with a concerned expression. (As I said before... My life is a party).
After that previous paragraph I've decided that this one will be my first one to actually have a title. Which makes it special.
Yet again I leave you with another one liner. I am a fountain of knowledge.
There are 3 kinds of people: those who can count and those who can't.
Adam. x

On another note. I'm in need of a psychic. You know where to Apply.

I have decided to write a blog. Not because anybody asked me to or that I think anyone might benefit from the ramblings of a somewhat deranged teen. I don't have some weird and wonderful story that ties in neatly into why I'm actually writing the stuff that you're currently reading. I'm here. I'm me. Deal with it. (Was that a tad too aggressive? I'm sorry)
I could say that I'm writing to give my views on world news, current events, scandal and gossip, indeed there might be these things in here, but it is unlikely... but probable.
From a proper Christian point of view I could try and bang on about how great God is. I won't because there's no point. I'm sure you're intelligent enough to make your own little minds up. A disbelief in God does not result in a belief in nothing; disbelief in God usually results in a belief in anything. It is unlikely you'll find me on your doorstep with a bible in one hand and a grin that makes most people cross themselves, saying; "Good Morning Sir/Madam I was wondering if you fancied a talk about Christ." If I do. Kill me. It might be the right thing to do.
I'm not saying that its wrong to be a Christian. I'm saying that telling other people they should be probably isn't a good idea. "Oh hello Mr Rabbi, Have you ever thought of joining the church" You go try that and see how that works for your life expectancy skills.
Much like the author Terry Pratchet I believe that there's a fine line between murder and suicide. As dark a topic as this may seem, hear me out, it's probably not as bad as you think.
Now you see murder could probably be best described as unprovoked because, lets face it, telling a 6ft 7 skinhead that you did his Mother behind the bike shed last night is suicide, turning up to a Liverpool Game wearing a Manchester United top is suicide, wearing a fleece and trackies whilst skateboarding to the nearby shops is social suicide. A completely different concept.
Social suicide is saying that you secretly liked Jedward's version of Ice Ice Baby, or that you pose naked in the mirror. (I should probably stay quiet about the Jedward). Social Suicide is, for a certain 17 year old, about running to give your mate a hug, them moving and you bailing onto your side infront of a packed Cafe Nero.
Even the woman on the mobility scooter stopped to laugh at me...
That's all from me at the mo but I will leave you with one thing;
Borrow money from pessimists- they don't expect it back.
Adam x