Well that was a dinger.
It's Tuesday now, I'm right as rain (what's so right about rain, though?).
However, I lament the passing of the co-greatest Brain Day ever. What it lacked in the longevity of Brain Day '04, it more than made up for in spunk.
Thanks to all who attended, glad to see that the annual cutting-open-of-my-head festival just gets more and more popular. You're all a pack of like-minded ne'erdowells, and my affection is with you always.
Where was it? Oh yeah, The Stag's Head. Who was it? Oh yeah, myself and the vast majority of my cohorts. What was it? Oh yeah, fucking top notch.
Now I realise that come my 11th or 12th lager beer of the evening I may have become a little, shall we say, cheeky, but I'd ask any transgressee to overlook my busy words on account of the occasion.
And what since? Sunday I woke up with an iresome headache, transparent irony notwithstanding, so I dampened it again with lager beer and Johnny on the couch watching 'Anchorman' (meh, I don't care too much for that whole Vince Vaughn, Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell cosy little coterie) and then Liverpool de-grin Mourinho with a 2-1 win at the Millennium Stadium.
That was nice.
After that, the beering stopped. I fell into a coma and awoke a shadow of a man. A decent night's kip was all that was for it and a day of utmost nothingness yesterday. Upshot? I'm full of beans. You can probably sense the sprightliness in my penmanship.
You can, can't you? O say you can.
I need validation.