Rat Confession!

Friday 5:50 p.m.
Just when Broon the Basturn has decided to sent potheads to jail again, nine or ten of his cabinet have confessed to smoking cannabis once or twice while still students, though all of them apparently stopped immediately they graduated, and then went on to become the disgusting evil bourgeois careerist basturns they now are.

An Alien Creature from Outer Space was going to vote for me for our own wee Parliament here in Edinburgh if I'd managed to get on the ballot paper, so I think, bearing this in mind ... and also that I am a church leader ... that I have a little confession to make as well.

Once in 1970 someone handed me a sweet and sickly smelling cigarette. His name was Albert the Bavarian and the polis should arrest him now for supplying and possession. I'll certainly testify against him!

After two puffs, I realised that I had done wrong and vowed to never again take drugs. This did not stop me from developing schizophrenia (Are you still there, Jack?) and being unable to make the transition into an adulthood where I would have become a useful member of society and a hypocritical bourgeois basturn except that it was too much bloody effort.

Readers of this bloggy must realise that all that stuff about the cannybliss yogurts, the Bolivian Marching Band, Benny and the Midnight Runners and such like is just a novelist's way of brightening up what might otherwise have been a boring and predictable route to sainthood.

God told me I'd get my book published if I stopped drinking beer. Here's the juju way to get over your addictions.

You get the Medicine Buddha sitting over your head. He's a light being filled with ra bliss and heat, compassion and altruism. You say: Medicine Buddha, cure me of my addictions, please. Ra bliss comes down in a white stream and you imagine it coming through your fontanella, down through your chakras and eventually filling you completely. You keep going back to the top of your head and down till this has happened. Then, the Medicine Buddha says: Hotboy, I have cured you of your addictions. And you say: Fanks, Medicine Buddha. Fanks a lot!

That'll be ten percent off the top, please.

They've put a new electronic sign up at Bellshill station. I checked my pulse rate today as I waited for the train back to Edinburgh. 55 beats a minute. Quite slow for a fat basturn!