Yeah, I know my blog game's been poor this week. So what? I gave you a whole mixtape on Sunday. Play that over and over and stare at the lovely sleeve until you feel inclined to spend your next pay check on Don Shoes, why don't you. There are worse ways to pass the time.
I, for example, have been hanging out in the Passport Office in Victoria. I got a new passport, as you can see above. Well, you can see my new photo above. I'll be damned if I'm scanning my new passport. How stupid do you think I look? Not as stupid as I did in 2002, that's how.
Anyway. Passport office. A lot better organised than it was last time I was there. There are men wandering around with fucking guns now! This surprised me, as I am famously naive. "Well, duh," said Littles when we were talking about it on the phone earlier. "It's a passport factory! That's more money than a bank! Man could run up in there with straps and be rich!"
I suppose man could. Me, not so much. I was tempted to steal a magazine in WH Smiths last week. I stood there in the isle, holding the thing (a copy of Future Music, since you asked) for a good four minutes with my pulse racing before I pussied out and out it back on the shelf. My days of crime are far behind me now. I am like George Bush.
Anyway, I have exciting things to tell you about, but I don't want to jinx them. So I shall bid you a good day, and get back to learning my lines.