The northlondonhippy

Author Archive

Oh fuck­ers, fuck­ers, fuck­ers, I do dis­ap­point you so!

I’m sorry I’m always apol­o­gis­ing for my recent lack of par­tic­i­pa­tion and inter­est, but weird this phase of the hippy will be com­ing to a close soon enough.

Why?

Because in the not too dis­tant future, I’ll be re-launching this blog in a very big way!

I’ve con­tracted a team of crack web design­ers to com­pletely over­haul my site. Expect all the reg­u­lar hippy good­ness you’ve become accus­tom to, per­haps even addicted to, but in a slicker, shinier package!

Besides the redesign, I’m going to be adding some very spe­cial fea­tures as well as chang­ing the way I blog. It’s all fuck­ing exciting!

Can you feel it? Can you? CAN YOU? Fuckers!

I’d like to kindly ask all of my loyal hip­py­fans to please bear with me dur­ing this tran­si­tional phase. My appear­ances here will con­tinue to be occa­sional until the new blog launches, hope­fully in the next month or so, but no promises!

While I’m here, I’ll share a cou­ple of news­wor­thy notes.

The Inde­pen­dent news­pa­per is report­ing that recre­ational use of nitrous oxide is on the increase here in the UK, and you can read their story RIGHT HERE.

I’ve actu­ally got a mate who goes to clubs and punts bal­loons full of N20 and is mak­ing a decent profit from it.

Back in the 80s, I used to get can­is­ters of it. They were the lit­tle ones used in whipped cream mak­ers, which you can still get today. Check out THIS WEBSITE, which is men­tioned in the Indy article.

I just might need to order some myself! Though they only take Pay­Pal, so I might recon­sider since I don’t have an account.

The other story I want to call your atten­tion to is from SKY NEWS and quite hand­ily I can actu­ally pro­vide you with THIS LINK to the actual tv report.

It seems the UK’s most con­ser­v­a­tive broad­caster is try­ing to piss all over my party. Just like they did with my beloved and now dearly departed shrooms!

Well, fuck ‘em! If they take the cur­rent herbal highs away, some clever clogs will come up with the next gen­er­a­tion! It’s big busi­ness here in the UK, some­thing like £10 mil­lion per year. That sort of dosh is seri­ous and it’s a mar­ket they won’t let go of easily!

And yes, I sub­scribe to SKY, I adore my SKY+ and I’m not too both­ered by their pol­i­tics! I just like good tele­vi­sion and the SKY dig­i­tal plat­form is the best one avail­able here in the UK. I apol­o­gise for nothing!

Any­way fuck­ers, thanks for drop­ping by. As you can see, I am still liv­ing that hippy life, so you don’t need to!

And when I re-launch my blog, look out, I won’t be the biggest inter­net celebrity you’ve never heard of for much longer!

Here’s the thing…

I know I’m sup­posed to be re-committed to this blog and all that, but my time con­tin­ues to be lim­ited. I’ve got too much to do and never enough time to do it!

But I haven’t for­got­ten you all, oh no! I’m still livin’ that hippy life so you don’t need to!

But here’s the really big fuck­ing news.…

I’m going to offi­cially relaunch this blog, ide­ally next month!

I’ve hired a crack team of web­de­sign­ers to work on my new site.

Ok, by team I actu­ally mean my younger brother and I haven’t hired him so much as asked him to do it as a favour for me.

But still, I’m going to relaunch. The hippy is going to be a proper, fully func­tional web­site, just like your mother used to make!

It’s gonna be all kinds of good!

It’s going to be the best web­site in the his­tory of the inter­net, ever!

Well, maybe not, but it will be chock full of my spe­cial brand of drivel!

I promise it that all your northlon­don­hippy dreams will come true on this one page!

Are you feel­ing me? Are you? ARE YOU?

It’s about time I re-asserted myself here on the world wide thingy-ma-bob!

I’ve got opin­ions, dammit and they’re worth shar­ing! I count, I mat­ter, I’m impor­tant, if only to myself!

You thought you knew this hippy, well fuck­ers, you ain’t seen noth­ing yet!

As soon as the new site is fly­ing the hip­pyflag high I’ll post all the details you need to know to dig on your own home com­puter. Ain’t tech­nol­ogy grand!

Until the big relaunch, you’ll still get the occa­sional visit here from me, but when that new site is up, look out, I’ll be pes­ter­ing you all as much as you can take it!

So if you’re a long time hip­py­fan or brand new to all things hippy, strap your­self in, it’s gonna be the ride of your god­damn life! Fuckers!

The one true genius of the 21st cen­tury is now open for business.

I mean me, of course.

Why am I the one true genius of the 21st century?

Sim­ple, because I know that I don’t know every­thing and I never will. That makes me smarter than your par­ents; I bet they’re real know-it-alls! They don’t know dick!

Nei­ther do I, but I’m hon­est about it. So take that, fuckers!

I’m just fill­ing time, in my night, on this blog and in my life. My life remains in a hold­ing pat­tern, I’m still cir­cling the air­port and when I’ll touch­down is anyone’s guess.

Remem­ber I went on and on that 2005 was the year of the hippy? I lied, but I’m com­ing clean now.

I really thought 2005 was going to be my year. All the signs were there, it was look­ing good. So where did I go wrong?

If I had the answer to that one, my fine feath­ered fuck­ers, I’d be in a posi­tion not to repeat my mis­takes. We’re all doomed to repeat­ing our mis­takes eternally!

But this hippy’s per­sis­tent and it takes more than a bad year (decade? life­time??) to dis­cour­age me! That’s why I decided this blog will live on! I’m still for­mu­lat­ing a big re-launch though and as soon as I know what form that will take, I’ll let all my hip­py­fans know!

The pod­cast idea didn’t really work out, but hey, maybe I should give it another try. Half my prob­lem was I recorded it with a PC’s shitty inter­nal micro­phone, which did my nov­elty hippy-voice no favours. Per­haps I’ll try again with my bet­ter kit.

But will that make a dif­fer­ence? Fuck knows. Maybe I’m just rubbish?

Bull­fuck­ing­shit! I’m any­thing but rub­bish! I’m a future god to all!

If only! I should be your god (not that old shit again), because I’d be a great god! I already know what you’re thinking….that hip­py­cock is very suckable!

In your dreams!

I’ve logged in and blogged on with no set agenda. This is just me say­ing, “hey fuck­ers, I’m still alive!” Wanna feel my pulse?

I’m still hop­ing for a break­through this year and I’ve got a cou­ple of things planned that might actu­ally take off.

The prob­lem with being a media whore like myself is greed. I’m paid well when I work, I’m paid did­dly when I don’t. I need to work less, so I can work more, on the projects that mat­ter to me. Earn less now for a big­ger pay­day at some point in the future!

Isn’t that kind of how chris­tian­ity works? Live the hon­ourable life now for rewards in the after­life? I hope I don’t have to wait until I’m gone to be con­firmed as the one true genius of the 21st cen­tury. That would suck!

I’m actu­ally, really, truly work­ing on scripts for a tv series. Shh­h­hhh, don’t tell any­one. I know it’s a win­ner, but I need to con­vince some­one with some seri­ous cash to fund it. The only way that’s going to hap­pen is if I get the scripts to a point where I can show them to people.

But mark my words, if some­one does fund this one, I can promise you, you will hear about it. It will be pop­u­lar and more impor­tantly, it will make me lots of money. You’ll buy the DVD box set, won’t you?

I’m going to be 43 cunt­ing years old this month. My birthday’s soon and I’m dread­ing it. Aside from the fact that it’s the last year of my “early for­ties”, it’s just another reminder of lit­tle I’ve actu­ally accom­plished with my life.

That’s not totally fair, for if you met me, you’d think I was some­what hap­pen­ing. Just not enough for me to feel good about myself.

What am I talk­ing about, I never feel good about myself, unless I’m uncon­scious or some­thing equally fun. You have no con­cept of the depths of my per­sonal self-loathing. You’d need sonar to hit that par­tic­u­lar rock bottom!

What can I say? I’m a dreamer whose dreams refuse to die! Sure, my dreams may have a splut­ter­ing cough, but it’s not a death rat­tle, there’s still plenty of life left in them!

My prob­lems have always been sim­ple. I’ve got a decided lack of for­ti­tude; I rarely stick to any­thing. And when I do, another of my short­com­ings comes into play, namely my giant fear of rejection.

That’s a shitty combo, espe­cially if you want to write books and screen­plays and make films! There’s always some­one who will work harder and longer for less money!

But like I said, my dreams are alive. Over the years I’ve honed my skills as a drama­tist and author. I’m shit hot really, I just need the rest of world to dig what I do and that means putting some­thing out there!

I’ve taken some baby-steps in that direc­tion recently, but noth­ing sig­nif­i­cant. That’s going to change very soon; I’m set­ting my sights high and my phasers on fry. I’m tak­ing no fuck­ing prisoners!

I didn’t expect to come online and give myself a peptalk, but that’s what this is turn­ing into. My bullshit’s so con­vinc­ing, I’m even buy­ing it myself!

Whether some­thing good hap­pens for me or not this year, I can promise you this: In less than 50 years, I’ll be dust. Some­how, know­ing that makes suc­cess or fail­ure mat­ter that much less.

I never said I was sane, just like I never promised you a rose garden!

I beg your pardon?

Go on, gimme a moth­er­fuck­ing yipppeeee! It’s the first one of the god­damn new year!

I’m still the hippy you all love and maybe lust after just a lit­tle bit! I am still the biggest inter­net celebrity you’ve never heard of…and I stopped being shroom­tas­tic nearly 6 months go! So fuck­ing what?

So I’m still here to enter­tain, amuse and inform, that’s fuck­ing what!

I’m no closer to a final deci­sion on the fate of this blog. Well that’s not com­pletely true, I think I’ve aban­doned the idea of a pod­cast. I tried to do a pilot and it was a piece of shit. I’m eas­ily dis­cour­aged, hey ho!

The fact is that I’ve gotta do some­thing to re-ignite my spark. Any­one got any new drugs? That usu­ally works!

I’ve pretty much been stick­ing to spliff lately and noth­ing more. How dull.

Don’t worry, I’ll fig­ure out what to do next soon enough.

In the mean­time, happy fuck­ing new year! I’m back, I’ll be post­ing again. I’m on the look­out for more drugs.

What more could you devoted hip­py­fans need?

Hey fuck­ers!

My con­tin­ued neglect of you hip­py­fans is becom­ing too reg­u­lar. There was a time when I posted here faith­fully, at least once a day. My hippy-output recently has been more like once a week, which in real terms is absolute shite!

I’m still the hippy you all adore and maybe lust after just a lit­tle. I’m still the biggest inter­net celebrity you’ve never heard of…but I’m not shroom­tas­tic any­more! I’m still the hippy dammit, even if I don’t come online as often as I should!

I’ve thought about the future of this blog and I do want it to continue…it will con­tinue, though the form of my online pres­ence may change. More on that later.

I’ve put my heart & soul into this blog, my blood, sweat and spunk too. I don’t know if it shows, I don’t think many peo­ple read me any­more. Actu­ally, I know they don’t. Some­where along the line, I think I might have lost my spark.

Per­haps it’s all down to the British gov­ern­ment and their silly move to reclas­sify my beloved magic mush­rooms. Up until last July, they were legal and read­ily avail­able to pur­chase and con­sume. Maybe there’s a cor­re­la­tion between their reclas­si­fi­ca­tion and my blog going down hill.

Let’s face facts; this blog has been in decline for some months now. It’s not just my non-participation, but my lack energy. Since July, I’ve been work­ing too much. While my bank bal­ance and credit card bills appre­ci­ate this very much, I’m con­stantly exhausted. I just don’t have the energy to gen­er­ate enter­tain­ing, infor­ma­tive posts every day.

When I started this blog, way back in March 2003, I was unem­ployed, with no prospects and a seri­ous weed and shroom habit. Today, I’m overem­ployed, still addicted to weed, but shroom­less. Cer­tainly my life has changed more than that?

Of course it has! It’s changed in all sorts of ways, both good and bad. Isn’t that what hap­pens to everyone?

I could go through all the var­i­ous ways my life has changed in nearly two years, but what fun would that be? If you really want to know badly enough, my entire archive lives just to the right on this page and you can read all the back entries. I wouldn’t com­plain if you did!

Life is change, change can be a good thing.

I’ve got a cou­ple of hip­pylinks to pro­vide you with, just to keep you up-to-date on the lat­est drug news. Both are from the Guardian, my favourite news­pa­per. Those cunts should really give me a weekly col­umn! If I was get­ting paid for this shit, I would def­i­nitely have more stuff to say!

The first link is a rather detailed look at the cur­rent con­tro­versy sur­round­ing the alleged link between cannabis and psy­chosis. I say “alleged” because my view has always been sim­ple, weed doesn’t make any­one crazy, who wasn’t already crazy to begin with! The Guardian, of course, makes this point far more ele­gantly than I ever could, so why not read their ver­sion RIGHT HERE.

The other story con­cerns my new favourite legal high, piper­azine or BZP, which is gain­ing in pop­u­lar­ity here in the UK. It’s a decent write-up, worth read­ing if you’re con­sid­er­ing try­ing these new party drugs. You can check out the Guardian arti­cle by click­ing on ON THESE WORDS. Now that it’s made the main­stream press, you can bet it won’t be too long before the White­hall cunts ban this one too! Silly, silly, SILLY!

I’m still dig­ging P.E.P. pills, they’re cheap, con­sis­tent, easy to get and really do give you a buzz. Don’t think of them as an ecstasy sub­sti­tute, because if that’s what you’re expect­ing, you will be dis­ap­pointed. Instead, think of it as a brand new drug, which I sup­pose it actu­ally is. Check them out, maybe you’ll like them too. Or maybe you’ll think they’re shit, but for a fiver, you can’t go wrong!

I’m unapolo­getic when it comes to drugs. Every­one digs them, every­one does them! Any­one who denies it, is lying to you. Any­one who ain’t lying, is just dull. Yawn.

That’s not true, I’m sure there are some peo­ple, some­where, liv­ing a ful­fill­ing and sat­is­fy­ing drug free life. I just hope they stay the fuck away from me!

For most of us, life sucks. We all lie to our­selves and try to con­vince our­selves oth­er­wise, but if you’re telling the truth, the truth is, life sucks! Most days, it’s just a slog to get through to the next one. I under­stand this; I set my expec­ta­tions low and my tol­er­ance HIGH. If it weren’t for weed, I prob­a­bly would have topped myself years ago. If you find some­thing that works for you, you stick with it. Drugs work for me!

I could mur­der a spliff right now, but I’m at work and woe­fully sober. I’ll be home in about 4 hours and a juicy joint awaits. I can hang on till then, I don’t have a choice!

Yeah, I’m at work, which seems to be the only time I do any blog­ging. I’m tired and it’s only my first night of six. It’s going to be a long week, if I don’t kill any of my col­leagues, I should be awarded human­i­tar­ian of the year. I should be awarded some­thing any­way. How about hippy of the year? It’s not like there’s any competition!

We’ve got a fort­night left in 2005. 2005 sucked, 2004 sucked even more, so I guess 2005 was bet­ter. So what? Soon it will be 2006 and we’ll all still be suck­ing on shit sand­wiches. So what?

So! It’s time for my hippy end of the year review!

I was stoned for most of the year and don’t remem­ber much of it. If only life were that easy! Sadly, I do recall lots of it!

Best albums of the year as cho­sen by the hippy:
- Green Day: Amer­i­can Idiot (yes, I know it came out in 2004, so what?)
- The Killers – Hot Fuss – wicked debut, every song’s a win­ner
- Hard-Fi – Stars of CCTV – best new British act, sub­ur­ban angst and desperation

Best films
- fuck knows, I never go to the cin­ema. Ask me what’s on SKY movies!

Best TV shows:
- Veron­ica Mars – bet­ter than you would ever expect!
- Doc­tor Who – well writ­ten & pro­duced, a real treat!
- Six Feet Under – sorry to see it go, but end­ings are a part of life as this show showed.
- The Thick of It – British satire at it’s best
- Curb Your Enthu­si­asm – fun­ni­est fuck­ing thing on TV

As you can see, I like tele­vi­sion and if I was more awake, would have listed even more programmes.

God, I’m tired tonight!

Mainly, 2005 for me was the year of the major pur­chase and gad­gets. I spent the last year join­ing the 21st cen­tury. I’ve bought:

- A pre-owned Toy­ota Yaris — vroom, vroom, it’s small and cheap to run!
- An Apple iMac 20” G5 – the sexy flat panel com­puter
- An Apple 12” iBook – the iMac’s baby brother
- A wi-fi net­work con­sist­ing of a Net­Gear router and Apple Air­port Express
- A La Cie 500gb firewire hard drive – exter­nal stor­age at its finest.
- A Sony HC-42E cam­corder – widescreen, DV, dig­gable
- Var­i­ous soft­ware includ­ing Final Cut Express and Logic Express
- An Edirol UA-25 USB audio inter­face
- A 5th Gen iPod (w/video) – a great piece of kit
- A Tom­Tom One sat­nav GPS – my xmas pressie from Mrs. H

I’ve only had the Tom­Tom a cou­ple of days and yes I know it’s not xmas yet! So far, I’m blown away at how good this new toy is. It knows where I am and where I want to go and it tells me how to get there! How fuck­ing cool is that? It’s ice-fucking-cold! It really is ter­ri­bly clever and so easy to use! GPS has never been cheaper, so if you’ve been think­ing about it, go for it! It’s a must have device for the mod­ern driver!

My brand of the year is easy, it’s Apple. I’ve become a con­vert to the cult of Cuper­tino this year and I’m glad! I’ll hope­fully never own another PC run­ning nasty old Win­dows! OS X rocks, Apple’s rock! Spend the extra, get the bet­ter system!

As you might have gath­ered from my brief ret­ro­spec­tive of the pre­vi­ous year, this will most likely be my last post­ing on this blog for 2005. I’ve decided to give myself a wee rest from blog­ging. Don’t worry, I will return in the New Year, rested, refreshed and ready to rock your world!

I’d rather take some time off, than con­tinue pro­vid­ing you with an infe­rior product…!

Now the really excit­ing news is I’m mulling over a change in medium. I won’t leave the net, as no tra­di­tional media out­let wants to let the hippy loose, but I am con­sid­er­ing a move to pod­cast­ing. My nov­elty hip­pyvoice is ready for its debut.

I’m mak­ing no promises, a weekly 10 minute pod­cast might be beyond my scope. Can I really talk for 10 min­utes and keep you all enter­tained? Only time will tell. I won­der if any­one would even bother to down­load it. Would you?

So there you have it, this hippy’s tak­ing a break. Unless some­thing sig­nif­i­cant hap­pens, I won’t be back until the first week of the New Year. I want to take this oppor­tu­nity to wish all my hip­py­fans (at least those of you who still read this dri­vel) a very happy hol­i­day sea­son. I hope Santa brings you every­thing you asked for, and a whole lot more and I hope your New Year’s Eve sees you face down in the gut­ter, gig­gling your head off!

And as for me, well, whether I’m blog­ging my life away, every night and every, or not, I’m still and will always be the one, the only, northlondonhippy!

Yep, I’m still here. Reports of my inter­net death have been greatly exaggerated.

I’m still vac­il­lat­ing with regards to my con­tin­ued par­tic­i­pa­tion in this par­tic­u­lar blog.

I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I’d like to reignite my blog­ging fire, but I don’t know how. Part of me feels like I’ve hit a brick wall.

I do think of things to write about, but they still tend to come at awk­ward times, like when I’m drift­ing off to sleep. That’s no good to anyone!

Have I lost my enthu­si­asm? Have I lost my spark? Am I a hippy has-been? Or a never-was?

I don’t have the answers either. I can barely think of the questions.

Some­times, life is like this, where you don’t know if you’re com­ing or going…

That makes me think of an old joke….

Why did god make piss yel­low and semen white?

So you could always tell whether you’re com­ing or going!

Did ya get it? Did ya?

Nev­er­mind.

Has it really come to this? Old, recy­cled jokes that I first heard as a teenager? Oh dear.

Remem­ber when this blog was about drugs and blowjobs? Those were the days!

I tried the “Pul­sate Chill Pill” last week­end and I was so under­whelmed by them that I for­got to post my review.

I took one, fol­lowed by a sec­ond around 2 hours later. Yes, they had an effect, but I wasn’t that impressed. I can tell you right now, I pre­fer the P.E.P pills much more. “Twisted” are my favourites!

Also, the “Pul­sate Chill Pill” is more expen­sive than P.E.P.s…Pulsates cost a fiver a tab, while P.E.P. pills cost a fiver for two. Max rec­om­mended dose for both is 3 pills, so the P.E.P.s are much more cost effective.

Of course, proper MDMA “E’s” allegedly sell for 50p a pop in some parts of the UK, so going the legal route, while safer, is much more expen­sive. Since I don’t do proper E’s any­more, there my only option.

Again, the magic ingre­di­ent is piper­azine which is an extract of good old black pep­per. That’s right, the stuff you put on food that can make you sneeze! Ain’t mod­ern chem­istry grand!

Ok, so I thought of some­thing to say. I know lots of peo­ple use this blog as a ref­er­ence for all things drug related, so I guess I’m pro­vid­ing a pub­lic ser­vice to the masses!

Why doesn’t some­one hire me to be their drug cor­re­spon­dent? I’d love my own col­umn in the Guardian or a live radio call in show. Is any­one brave enough to do this? Has any­one got the balls to give me some air­time? I fuck­ing doubt it! Cre­ative think­ing and the media don’t go together very well.

I’ll tell you some­thing for noth­ing, fuck­ers. I’d get rock­ing rat­ings, espe­cially if I got an overnight time slot on the radio. I’m a night per­son any­way and I’d be able to attract all the really weird peo­ple and just imag­ine the phone-ins!

“Hello caller, what the fuck have you got to say?” says the hippy.

Caller: “I’m really high!”

Hippy: “Me too!”

Hippy & caller: “Yipppeee!”

It would be award win­ning radio! I’d be rich, I’d be famous and I’d being get­ting blown by every hot woman in Britain!

So if you’re a high­fly­ing pro­gramme direc­tor on a London-based radio sta­tion, look no fur­ther than me for the next big thing in broad­cast­ing! You’ll go down in his­tory as the genius who dis­cov­ered the northlondonhippy!

Greet­ings you lovely hip­py­fans! Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, not post­ing enough again. Change the record, hippy!

What I should be doing is com­ing here to write about some­thing with a point. I have no point tonight. Look at me, I’m pointless!

Let’s face it; it gets pretty fuck­ing dull around here if all I do is log in and write about work­ing all the time, blah, blah, blah. It’s dull. No won­der you’ve all aban­doned me again!

Yes, that’s right. My vis­i­tor num­bers are hov­er­ing just above zero at the moment. Only just. That sucks.

This blog used to be the most hap­pen­ing site on the ‘net and I was the biggest inter­net celebrity that you’ve never heard of. Where did I go wrong?

Oh I could rant on about Iraq for pages and pages. I could talk about the fed­eral mar­shals clip­ping some poor men­tally ill fucker in Miami, ala the Brazil­ian Stock­well shoot­ing here. I could even tell you where I was when John Lennon was killed in NYC. Basi­cally, I could spout on about anything.

But I won’t.

Instead, I’m won­der­ing if the northlon­don­hippy is past his sell-by date. Is it finally time for me to hang up my hippy hat? As much as I hope this is not true, judg­ing by my par­tic­i­pa­tion and yours, it might be impos­si­ble to deny.

What’s a poor hippy to do? I guess it might be time to con­sider my options.

I could give up com­pletely; just walk away and never be the hippy again. That would make me sad.

I could take a wee break, re-assess my options and take a deci­sion later. That could re-energise me.

Or I could just get back into the swing of things, and become the blog­ging mad dynamo that I used to be. How likely is that?

I don’t know what to do.

The smartest thing I could prob­a­bly do is take the remain­der of the year off, which is about three weeks. I don’t have to decide right now!

I’ve got another project I’m work­ing on which is about to shift gears and take up more of my time. Per­haps that’s the route I should take. Spend the next few weeks work­ing exclu­sively on that and not worry about being the hippy.

I just don’t know. I need drugs to help guide me to the right deci­sion. Got any?

But are we hav­ing fun yet?

I sure am!

It’s Sat­ur­day night and I’m quite com­fort­ably desk-bound in my office. I’ve got a few hours left, but I’ve already done every­thing, short of dot­ting a few “I’s” and cross­ing some “T’s”.

Unless some­thing bad happens.

Some­thing bad always hap­pens, but not tonight, oh no! If I close my eyes, my ass is already planted in the driver’s seat of my tiny lit­tle Yaris and I’m head­ing towards my north Lon­don lair. Yipppeee to that motherfuckers!

I’m groov­ing to my brand new 60gb, black iPod (with video) as I write. I’ve switched it to “shuf­fle” and I’m let­ting it sur­prise me with songs from my exten­sive library of pop­u­lar music.

I’m dig­ging my iPod, it is extra­or­di­nar­ily cool! I’ve been play­ing with a func­tion on iTunes, called “smart playlists”, where you set rules and it fil­ters your library accord­ingly. Sup­pose you only wanted to hear Led Zep­plin songs that you’ve rated 3-stars or above? No prob­lem, it can do that. It can do any­thing you can think of. It’s fuck­ing cool, but then so am I. It’s a match made in north London!

I’ve got less than four hours left before I can leave and I can’t wait. I’m off for almost pre­cisely 60 hours. Yipppeee fuck­ers! If I’m not care­ful, I could end up sleep­ing through a rea­son­able amount of that time. I can’t do that, no, no, no!

Instead, when I get home on Sun­day, I’m going to neck a cou­ple “Pul­sate Chill Pills” and stay up all god­damn day! Triple yipppeee to that! If I can make till mid­night on Sun­day, I’ll be a happy hippy. It will be party-time, hippy-stylie!

Don’t you party and get wasted on a Sun­day morn­ing? Doesn’t every­one? You gotta have your fun where you can, so Sun­day morn­ing it is for me.

You didn’t think I was gonna blow my morn­ing in some church, lis­ten­ing to a bunch of fairy­tale lies, did you? Get real fuckers!

Mon­day, my plans are far less excit­ing. I’m doing my taxes. Yawn. I’ve been pro­cras­ti­nat­ing for months and months. And months. And months. You get the idea. My accoun­tant phoned me the other day, he sounded angry. He needs my expenses. Now!

Holy mother of fuck, I suck at grown-up stuff like taxes. Any­thing admin related, paper­work, forms, etc and I’m use­less. Dis­ci­pline is what I’ve always lacked, when it comes to just about anything!

Blog­ging is the one thing I seem to actu­ally stick with. I know I haven’t been post­ing that fre­quently lately, but I’m still here. I’m inform­ing, I’m enter­tain­ing, and I’m chang­ing your god­damn life!

I’ve been research­ing GPS units and I’ve come to a con­clu­sion. They are essen­tial pieces of kit that every self-respecting dri­ver should own. They’re also much cheaper than they’ve ever been!

The model that seems to be to the best value for money at the moment, on the entry-level end of the scale, is the “Tom­Tom One”, which lists for around £280, but is on sale at Argos for an amaz­ing £223.99, which is the bar­gain of the fuck­ing century!

The “Tom­Tom One” is very well reviewed and sports the lat­est in satel­lite recep­tion tech­nol­ogy. If Tom­Tom wanted to send me a free one, just for men­tion­ing it here in the internet’s most pop­u­lar blog, I wouldn’t refuse. Actu­ally, I’d do a lit­tle happy dance if they did!

I’ve got a bet­ter chance of sprout­ing a tail and swing­ing from a tree with it than I do of get­ting any free shit from any­one, ever! Go on, prove me wrong!

Per­haps Santa is read­ing this. He’s gotta get me some­thing for Jesus’s birth­day, why not the Tom­Tom One? Here Santa, I’ll make life eas­ier for you. You must have loads to do before the big day. Why not just click HERE.

Life is one long, non-stop rock and roll party and we’re all invited! Yipppeee to that moth­er­fuck­ers! Let the games begin!

Go on, stay cool, stay high, stay hip­py­fans eternally!

Hey fuck­ers!

The hippy’s in the house!

Not your house, obvi­ously, or you’d be hit­ting the silent alarm and head­ing for your “panic room”. I’m not even in my own house, I’m at work. Though, tech­ni­cally, I prob­a­bly spend more time here in the office than I do in my own abode, so maybe this is home…?

That’s a ter­ri­fy­ing thought!

I’m a whore, I don’t say “no”. With­out really real­is­ing it, I’ve sud­denly found myself with an over­whelm­ing amount of work this month…17 shifts, plus an 18th on the night of the first of Jan­u­ary. Yikes!

Ok, so it will be a bumper pay­day come next month, but so what? With the pur­chase of my shiny, black 60gb iPod (with video), I now own every­thing I need!

Except for a GPS unit for my car and Mrs. Hippy won’t let me have one! I’m sure this is just her cun­ning ploy to keep me off-balance so she can sur­prise me with one on Jesus’s birth­day! They’ve got­ten so cheap now, how could she not want me to have one? I’ve seen one model as low as 167 squid, a fuck­ing bar­gain for fuck­ing bar­gain hunters everywhere!

You see, here’s the thing: My sense of direc­tion is rub­bish and I have a long and cel­e­brated his­tory of get­ting lost while dri­ving. Case in point, last Feb­ru­ary I had to drive a scant five miles from my home for an appoint­ment. It should have taken me 20 min­utes tops, but instead it took me nearly 2 hours! And it cost me in petrol and grey hairs too! Fuckers!

My prob­lem with nav­i­ga­tion is sim­ple: I’m use­less with maps. They con­fuse me. Here’s a help­ful hippy hint, if you have prob­lems like this. Toss the map out the win­dow and allow your cos­mic con­nec­tion to the uni­verse to guide you.

Think that sounds silly? It’s no sil­lier than get­ting lost with a map in your hands! My zen like approach, if I can remain calm, nor­mally serves me very well. Nat­u­rally, a GPS unit would be bet­ter than my mys­te­ri­ous ways. I really, really want one!

Here’s the thing: If I had a GPS, I’d be more tempted to go more places, do more things…maybe even drop in unex­pect­edly at your house even. Don’t worry, I won’t touch up your lit­tle sis­ter, unless she’s over 16, in which case, look the fuck out! Oh and hide the good drugs too. Grrrrrrrrrr!

I haven’t men­tioned my cock in a while. It sends its regards and asks to be sucked regularly.

Where’d that come from?

I’ve found a new herbal high that I’m plan­ning on sam­pling, per­haps as early as Sun­day. It’s called the “Pul­sate Chill Pill” and I’d pro­vide a help­ful hip­pylink, but I’m at work and avoid my legal high web­sites when I’m here, just in case. Google will bring you straight to my source, which is EDIT – my fav head­shop website!

The really fuck­ing groovy thing about these new pills is that they were devel­oped and endorsed by the New Zealand gov­ern­ment! Harm min­i­mal­i­sa­tion solu­tion is what they call it. The word from the kids is that these are the best of the “E” sub­sti­tutes. I’ll be the fuck­ing judge of that! I’ve read that these are so good, they’re actu­ally out­selling real MDMA in Hol­land, which if true, is pretty amazing!

They’re a fiver a pill, which ain’t cheap and the max­i­mum dose is three (in a four hour period, so that’s 2 hours between each one). Let’s face it, real “E’s” can be dodgy. you don’t know what’s in them; how strong they are; nothing.

With these “chill pills” you know exactly what you’re get­ting and at what dosage. The main ingre­di­ent with these is again Piper­azine, the same as those P.E.P. pills I’ve been dig­ging lately. It’s an extract of black pep­per and used med­ically to treat tape­worm. Yuck.

I fin­ish this run of work on Sun­day morn­ing and I’m back on Tues­day night – which in real terms is like a day and a half off. If I want to make the most of my free time, I think tak­ing these might make sense, espe­cially if they keep me up all damn day!

Oh, the other thing I bought is some­thing called Salvia Lotus, which is a blend of Salvia extract and Blue Lotus flower extract. I’ve actu­ally not exper­i­mented with salvia extract before, so I’m look­ing for­ward to it. I tried smok­ing the leaf, but I wasn’t very impressed. I’ve men­tioned the blue lotus flow­ers here before and I’ve really enjoyed the effects, so I’m sure the extract will be even better.

Fuck­ing hell, now I’ve got some proper work to do. And I thought I could spend the rest of my shift spew­ing my spe­cial brand of dri­vel! Catch ya next time, my beloved hip­py­fans and fuck­ers alike!

I have a con­fes­sion to make, I’m a total fraud….

I pro­fess that I’m a pseudo-intellectual, philoso­pher, humorist, satirist and drug abuser. In real­ity, only that last descrip­tive term is really true.

I’m just like every­one else tool­ing around on this planet. I pre­tend I know things, I act like things mat­ter, I smile know­ingly at all and sundry. I act like I give a shit.

The truth is: I’m just as scared and pig-ignorant as the rest of us. I’m no dif­fer­ent from any­one else, I’m just higher more often. And if I wasn’t, I’d prob­a­bly be clin­i­cally insane.

As it stands, I’m insane, but not clinically.

That’s alright then.

I search for truths, in my life, in the uni­verse, in every­thing. The truth is: I don’t know dick. I know less than dick. I’m no dif­fer­ent from any­one else.

We pre­tend we know things; we act like we under­stand our role in the uni­verse. Bull-fucking-shit! We don’t know dick.

No one knows why we’re really here. No one knows how we got here. Go on, make up your own the­ory, it will be just as valid as any­one else’s. It’s all spec­u­la­tion any­way, who’s to say you’re not the one true genius of the human race, with all the right answers?

It has to be some­one, why not you?

Why not me?

I stum­ble around, stoned out of my mind on drugs, pre­tend­ing I’m the ulti­mate author­ity on every­thing. I pro­fess to be the one true genius of the 21st cen­tury. Maybe I am?

Who are you to say I’m not? Who’s any­one? I could be, you know.

Of course, if I really was, then no one would pay atten­tion to me.

Oh wait, no one pays atten­tion to me now, so maybe it really is me…?

I toil away here in rel­a­tive obscu­rity, in my own lit­tle cor­ner of inter­net hell. If I truly was a genius, wouldn’t you all be wor­ship­ping at my feet and suck­ing my cock heartily while you were down there?

I’m look­ing down, all I see are my shoes. I need new laces, these are frayed at the ends.

The truth is: If I really was the one true genius of the 21st cen­tury, no one would know it now.

Maybe after I’m dead, my place in the his­tory of the uni­verse will be con­firmed and my hippy vis­age will be star­ing at you on postage stamps. First class, naturally.

Per­haps in 100 or 1000 years, some future res­i­dent of this muddy hell-hole we call home will stum­bled upon this very blog and see my writ­ing for what it is, be it shit or solid gold.

I say solid gold, but I’m unashamedly biased.

I’m stu­pid, you’re stu­pid, we’re all stupid.

None of us are spe­cial, we’re all exactly the same, and we live our rather dull, unevent­ful, lit­tle lives in rel­a­tive obscurity.

Every­one I love is dead or dying. We’re all dying, slowly, one cell at a time, one day at a time.

We’re born, we live, and we die. The end.

Whether you’re an aid worker feed­ing the starv­ing in Africa, or some ser­ial killer dis­patch­ing street whores twice a night, your life will still fol­low along these sim­ple lines. Birth, life, death. Oh and taxes, unless you know how to avoid them, which makes you smarter than me already.

Some might argue that it’s not those three sim­ple things, but what you do in-between them.

I don’t agree, because no mat­ter where you’re born or how you live your life, that third one, death, still gets you in the end.

I fear death, I fear get­ting older and I fear being infirm. I’m ter­ri­fied of some calami­tous, cat­a­strophic health prob­lem, leav­ing me as an invalid. I don’t fear a swift death, dying quickly doesn’t worry me at all.

But lin­ger­ing, hang­ing on, and not being able to feed myself or wipe my own god­damn ass, now that scares the moth­er­fuck­ing bejeesus outta me!

Hey, you fuck­ing hip­py­fans owe me! If you hear I’m veg­e­tat­ing away in some hos­pi­tal bed, with no chance of recov­ery, you have to promise you’ll kill me. Smoother me with a pil­low, shoot me, poi­son me, stab me, I don’t care what you do, just make sure it’s quick and I don’t suf­fer too much.

I’d pray to god for insight and under­stand­ing and faith, but he doesn’t answer my prayers.

He doesn’t answer anyone’s. He doesn’t exist. He’s fic­ti­tious, he’s not real, he’s a con­struct; a cre­ation of some­one just like you or me.

God was invented to give us some­thing big­ger to believe in, to answer the unan­swer­able, to promise a bet­ter life in the next world.

Bull­shit! If you buy into any of this, you’re not very clever and you deserve to be anally raped by satan until you bleed buck­ets. Ouch.

Fairy­tales ain’t gonna help any of us. Believe in your­self and know that none of us are any bet­ter off. Other peo­ple may have more dosh and more things, but they don’t have any bet­ter idea of the answers to the unan­swer­able than you do.

And if some fuck­ing cunt comes ‘round, telling you they have all the answers while pass­ing the col­lec­tion plate, RUN. If you want to give some loser all your money, I’m just as good as your priest. And you know I’d blow it all on drugs, hook­ers and hand­guns, so it would be going to a very wor­thy cause.

When you realise how point­less it all is, how no one knows any bet­ter than you, it’s actu­ally quite lib­er­at­ing rather than depress­ing. I get more joy out of know­ing for sure that I don’t know any­thing, than pre­tend­ing to have all the answers.

At least I know what the ques­tions are and if you’re read­ing this blog, you prob­a­bly do too.

Think of all those poor schlubs who don’t even know what to ques­tion. Feel sorry for them, pity them, for they know not of what they’ll never know.

Actu­ally, per­haps rather than pity them, per­haps we should envy them. Think about it, have you ever met a proper Jesus-freak? Their eyes have this glazed-over qual­ity of some­one who knows some­thing you don’t, only worse. Because they think they’re right and you’re wrong, they’re cer­tain you’re going to hell! What’s even spook­ier is these pseudo-christian cunts seem to take plea­sure in telling you that you will spend eter­nity get­ting poked in the ass by satan.

Hell’s where all the really cool will be. Heaven will be pretty empty, with god, jesus and the Osmond fam­ily your own com­pany. For eter­nity. And since you’re already dead, you can’t top your­self, it won’t work. I sup­pose your only option is to try and slip it to Marie Osmond and hope you get sent down­stairs with the rest of us hipsters.

Look for me, I’ll be the long-haired guy with the big bong and all the really hot chicks fight­ing over who shags me next. I’ll be hard to miss, and even harder to beat!

And remem­ber, this hippy is avail­able to enter­tain at par­ties. I’m one big fuck­ing bar­rel of laughs!