Dear Diary, Exhausted. Just plum tuckered out. People out there don't realise how tiring it is counting money. Especially when you've got as much as I do. And sometimes by the end of the day I've got quite a lot more than when I started, and then I have to count it all over again ! It's really hard ! And then yesterday I was up to 14 billion, 476 million and I got interrupted by a serf and I lost count. Pshaw ! Well of course I had him beheaded. You have to really. Otherwise they don't respect you. And I'm still gasping with shock over finding out about the minimum wage. Gosh gee whizz it's just awful. $606 is far far too much. And then imagine my further shock when I found out you have to pay them this every week !!!!! I thought it was just a one-off payment. We're doomed, I'm telling you this for nothing dear diary. If this sort of wanton behaviour carries on we'll end up with a world ruled by communists, cross-dressers, and giant heroi...
You've woken up feeling rested and refreshed. You have picked a great day to give up smoking. Congratulations. This is going rto be a piece of piss. Your lungs are already applauding. You make coffee and open up a copy of your new favourite magazine Bread & Circuses. There is a picture of Donald Trump entering the Republican Convention with God on one side of him and the asst treasurer of the American Nazi Party on the other. God is not pictured but obviously he's there. To look after Mr Trump. This is not good. Maybe you've picked a bad day to give up smoking. You turn on ABC Breakfast Television where they are promising to cut to their new American correspondent. It is Elmo from Sesame Street. ?You have picked a truly terrible day to give up smoking, but you're off to meet up with a bunch of friends for coffee and you've stupidly commited to giving up smoking today. You put on three pairs of sunglasses so you can do Lloyd Bridges in Flying High going "loo...
GOD AND UNNAMED ASSISTANT FIGURE OUT WHERE IN YOUR FAVOURITE PARK TO PUT THE DOG SHIT Hello, God here. Yes. Again. You all know I like to keep these personal appearances to a minimum, but people keep calling. And yes I am omniscient so I should know better but the thing is I have no spam filter and when five fifteen yr old girls on the beach start screaming omigod omigod into their iPhones I immediately think they're having some sort of deep spiritual crisis which demands my presence or at least some sort of a sign and then I find that no, it's merely that One Direction are in town and have added a second concert or that Justin Bieber has discovered a third pubic hair and named it Ulysses. None of which has anything to do with me. You can trust me on that one. I'm not one to point the finger but that stuff is pretty much the work of the Horned One. I am far too busy being enigmatic and diaphanous. Except on Tuesday afternoons when I make a special effort to b...
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