Cockswallop!

Well it's next year now and still the creative brick wall I slammed up against in December stands firm. As my more observent readers may have deduced, I work for a magazine (Britain's fastest selling magazine, as Herr Rowley never tires of pointing out) and magazines are notoriously finnicky about coming out once a month. This means you only have a short amount of time to come up with something ... and if you don't, you're fucked. And by fucked I mean no job, no money, fuck all. The last time this happened to me I ended up spending two years in a chair drinking cider. I'm not entirely sure I could handle that again. Arse!