Okay so you know my name and all the rest of the nonsense, but if your still lost you can view my profile here. I have an odd habit for seeing all those little niggles that come from being a human on this rather torturous existence we all claw our way through. Some say I'm over pessimistic and others say I'm a right miserable old git, but what people fail to realise is that it takes an extreme sense of humour to spot these bizarre things in the first place.

Me and the missus have this thing, we sit in a car park in a car obviously and make a game out of what we call "wrongun watching". Basically what we look for are people that act naturally, you see they don't know we are watching and they are misguided into thinking they are alone. It may sound like a totally odd version of train spotting, but trust me... it's as funny as hell.

We've seen it all, people scratching their asses then sniffing their finger, picking their noses and eating it, dancing to their iPods crazily and shit loads more. You see people when they are alone are literally the people they really are, and that's what I like... I like people unmasked and unashamed of what they are.

That's why my rather bizarre outlook on life is the way it is, we are constantly hiding behind manners, tidiness and an appearance that's chosen for us by what we are told looks handsome and beautiful by the media.

Take Victoria Beckham for example, we are told she's fit and gorgeous because she wears snazzy clothes, designer labels and hand bags made out of orphaned babies; yet we assume that she is sexy because of where she is in life and that she's on TV and in the media. But in all honesty she looks like a blow dried corpse.

I'm beginning to wonder if she even exists, maybe she's some bizarre wax model that her daft coloring book eating husband, created to accompany him to photo shoots and shit. He dresses it up, sprays her make up on with a water pistol and says to the press "hey guys, take pics of me and me bird!".

I've never seen her in real life, and to be honest I will die happy knowing that I've never shared the same slab of pavement as her. But the reason I think she doesn't exist is the photo evidence that's shoved in our faces every time we open a news paper... every fucking photo of Hound dog Thicktoria Beckham is exactly the same as the thousands before it. What more evidence do you need?!

That my friends is what this blog is about, it's a tool to stop me winging and raving at my missus... an outlet of rage and frustration at that fact that there's far less deserving people out there with more money and better lives... I'm pretty happy with what I got... my woman especially... but she deserves her own post that I will write another time... so until I can be arsed to write another post... I bid you farewell... and as Frasier says "I wish you good mental health"