The Lord of Leisure remains entrenched in the Arctic Tundra, his work ever coming to an end. But having been by himself for many days, fever has started to set in with thoughts most foul occurring. Well, different foul thoughts other than the normal you come to expect.

It is a time of great concern when thoughts like this occur, a time of choice, and a time of gambling for tonight’s mystery star prize only to find it’s a toaster. Every man has gone through this throughout the generations, and will continue to do so until as such time, that like every Star Trek episode has suggested, we leave our bodies behind to torment the universe with mystical farting.

And for once, I’m not going to leave this vague to cause confusion and arousal at the same time. It concerns the females of the species. And that means trouble.

You see, because of recent naughty with various amounts of work and not having the right time sorting out skills, it is well known that I have not been having much fun such as writing articles for the blog, I actually miss the creative writing that I prided myself on ensuring what Ooh Sometimes would become, as perhaps a portfolio to be proud of and maybe as a steping stone to write for other websites and podcasts.

The life experiences which happened back in the days when I did have interesting things to talk about, along with the colourful swearing and erotic but highly sexist banter was a great way of either blowing off some steam or voicing opinions about subjects which would be been difficult to write anywhere else.

I miss the process of thinking up hugely absurd ideas, creating fun and chaotic filth for the podcast with Mr. VO Man, that has fallen behind once again, the script with ideas left in a digital corner gathering dust, and the 26th of April release date looks a bit dodgy at present.

There was to be a stab at true radio presenting, which, after a phone call, that whole promise of grandness has gone down the toilet, for now at least the Aston FM position has become a pipe dream and thus perhaps a refuge from the grey fortress of IT.

There have been few full on bouts of gaming (in other words, playing violent shooters thus satisfying my white middle class blood lust) on many award winning titles, some of which still have remain unplayed and loved.

Perhaps it’s the fact that we haven’t been going out much, consumed in the work. Even then when I have been out somewhere, like Manchester last weekend where once again, Glyn, Kelly and Christine were more than kind hosts, and I was still under the weather. However comments made while there, caused some concern. Put it this way, it worries you when they say you look pale and the stomach issues etc has maybe been down to stress.

Surely this is not true? Can stress manifest itself in improper movements in the stomach? (I’m not counting the bottom trumping as that’s business as usual)

For some time I have slowly but surely been breaking and now have actively vented frustration and anger at anyone and everything. This includes Natalie. Now basically this is my fault and she has enough on her plate right now with the beginning of several art exhibitions, which are more than likely to be successful, without me getting out of the car and proceeding to cause a reign of terror over L.A.

I believe that if I do not calm myself down and return to the leisurely ways I used to take pride in being like, she will go. And that would be fair enough as no-one likes someone who moans about everything even when things look up.

I need a good sit-down and a jolly good think about what the situation is, and what can be done to quell the “Beast of Bonjella” that has consumed the soul of the Lord of Leisure and has left in it’s place, a bitter 90 old man, with a mug of beef tea, mumbling to passers by about how cold it is. Normally I’d ask for volenteers for kicking me up the backside, however that list may be rather long now as a result of recent times, so I won’t.

Whatever happens, all will become clear soon I feel and either it gets better or worse. My mind and heart are dangerous things to leave unguarded, in case they both leave the cage and go wandering off to find different things to laugh at, leaving me to hire Dastardly and Muttley to catch the b*****ds before another series of cartoons is made about those adventures. You know which ones….

And now one of the assignments is out of the way, with hopefully no comeback from the tutor to say I’ve failed and the exam and other assignment also comes back all good, I can take the foot off the pedal and begin to relax again, sorting myself out in the process. Hopefully before I really do make a balls-up of everything. After all, it would be only myself to blame.

I’m not writing this for sympathy, far from it, I’m writing this as it’s been building up and I wish to get it out in the open. Perhaps some good will come from all this. Failing that, a Cornetto would be nice.