Sunday, 3 June 2007

Hangover from the fucking depths of hell

Why do we exist? (Who cares) Will Bob Geldof save mankind? (Fucked if I know) Does Stephen Lambert like kinky sex? (I doubt it)

These were the random thoughts going through my head this afternoon as I 'disseminated my content’ (Fifi's expression, not mine) all over my computer keyboard looking at an erotic picture of HoustonHarley’s legs.

Sigh. Will I ever find the right girl for me? Everyone else is spending the day in the sun and here I sit, all alone in my 3/4 length trousers, hungover, and fantasising about someone I've been corresponding with though Toyboy Warehouse (when I should be working on the Autumn scheduling grid for tomorrow's Controller meeting).

Very tempted to arrange a date with this mysterious American born 'petrolhead'. But it's risky - what if she recognises me as the hugely important TV player that I am?

Need to put an urgent call into Michaela; in the past she's tried to fix me up with eligible girls, but it never, ever works. Either they are too pretty (and thus completely intimidate me deep-down) or too brainy (and I wipe the floor with them intellectually).


...There is someone I've got my eye on who's on Michaela's radar. She works for my old employers, and is about to launch *another* (yawn) campaign trying to get footballers to donate money to nurses (or something).

She's a total fox! Meow! And Jewish too, which will help tremendously when I take her to meet my Rabbi. I think having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend who can also intellectually kick some arse in a dinner party scenario is a VERY good thing to have for my media brand.

In my new position, everyone is looking to me to provide a bit of arm candy. I'm young, successful, rich, handsome, not spoiled by years of drugs and sexual experimentation (that's important), AND I FUCKING RUN A TV CHANNEL!

What more could any girl ask for?

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