Blogging and deleting

Oops.

Turns out coughing vodka binge man across the street isn't dead, but there's a chance he might soon be.

I was in the garden smoking shortly before midnight. Midnight is a good time to smoke, where man can look up into the sky and try to find something significant in a new day starting. I've never found anything but it hasn't stopped me looking.

Tonight though I found flashing lights, in the sky, on the wall, through the window. A sign? No, an ambulance. At first I thought it was the police again. On another recent smoking trip I saw policemen with dogs acting suspiciously.

But today, the same 'eugh' noise and a man being carted away. Serious. I felt bad staring from behind the curtain, but it was that or wait for the hammer blow to the door and the vice squad storming in. I'm still not sure about my housemates.

The real grief today was caused by West Ham United. It turns out that a study has shown that if you had bet £1 on West Ham to win each of their games this season - every game - you would have lost all of your money and someone would have come by to repossess your home. Once they'd taken out your TV and toaster, they'd come back and smack you in the face for every game West Ham had played.

But still, I've been betting on West Ham. £5 today to win the FA Cup. Fuckers let me down. I really needed them to win. Instead this year’s cup final will leave a scar, like a tattoo. It was like watching your fate being mapped out by people you've never met.

But enough of that. The highlights tonight are painful. I shouldn’t watch. It’s like a car crash or an ambulance flashing and parked outside of your house. Hope the poor bastard feels better tomorrow. Hope we all feel better tomorrow. We will I think.