Woss on the Web

What's the best way to get wax out of a toaster?

In other news, nail polish remover does indeed get rid of blu-tac stains, but unfortunately it does so by melting the paint off the walls.

Just one more day before I head up to the Hydro Connect Festival to see lots of very talented people like Bloc Party, Goldfrapp, Sigur Ros, Franz Ferdinand, Turin Brakes and Guillemots sing their amazing songs, and Duffy's apparently going to be there too. My rucksack is almost packed, I've retrieved the tickets from where I hid them a few weeks ago and I've successfully ignored almost all of the environmentally friendly advice they keep e-mailing me.

Speaking of the environment, I wonder how the weather is up there in Inveraray. Should I bring my sunglasses?

Today

Never mind, I'm sure it'll dry up by the time we arrive tomorrow.

Friday

Oh... Well, at least it isn't quite as heavy?

Saturday

Um... Well, they can't get the weather forecasts right aaaall the time surely.

Sunday

CURSESSS.

3:59AM: I wake up. I'm immediately aware of a strange rustling noise coming from somewhere behind my head. The pillow against the bedframe, surely?

4:00AM: No, definitely not pillow. Definitely not bedframe. Noise continues even when I'm lying still. Perhaps it's a poster about to take a tumble. I squint at the Doctor Who one directly above me.

4:01AM: Poster collapse dismissed as a plausible explanation. No signs of blu-tac failure are visible, and besides, the source of the sound keeps ominously shifting.

4:02AM: I start thinking of ghosts and want to hide under the bed, before I remind myself that I am twenty one and really need to stop such nonsense. I leave the safety of my duvet and switch on the light.

4:04AM: The noise is coming from over there, just beside the SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS IT'S A GIANT FUCKING DADDY LONG LEGS it looks like a swollen mutant mosquito bred with a spider and it is scuttling back and forwards across the ceiling. I do not want it to touch me.

4:05AM: I must not panic, I must not panic. Trying to ignore its frantic movements, I notice that there is what seems to be an empty daddy long legs husk dangling lifelessly from the ceiling-bound Wall-E poster. Do crane flies shed their skin?

4:06AM: FUCK FUCK FUCKKKK NO THEY DON'T IT'S ALIVE GOD STAY AWAY GODDDD right, okay, it has now relocated to the Futurama poster, leaving me with two almost identical problems on both sides of the room. I make a mental note never to leave my window open overnight again.

4:10AM: There is no doubt as to what must be done. They must be killed. Both of them. Dead. They must not be allowed to touch me. Unfortunately, to achieve their destruction it is clear that I myself must move closer and make some kind of physical contact. I retreat to the bed and consider waking someone up for assistance.

4:14AM: I have armed myself with a copy of Empire magazine. The creature previously thought to have been skin has settled in a corner. I start to feel guilty. Once again, I want something dead because it is ugly and I am paranoid. It has not shown any sign of wanting to cause me harm. It is only sheltering from the rain, and keeps getting its legs stuck under my posters.

Enough! hissed the voice in my head that makes me do bad things. It is grotesque! Did it ask you if it could come into your room? No! It is a filthy, disgusting trespasser and you can't even see its eyes. Now kill it before it touches you!

I switch the Empire for a copy of Q with Duffy on the cover, and advance.

4:15AM: OH GOD

4:16AM: STAY AWAY GOD NO NOT OVER THERE

4:17AM: NO NO NO NO NO JESUS CHRIST GOD NO

4:18AM: The attack has been a resounding failure. The creature's awkward position in the corner meant my half-hearted blow only caused it some minor disfigurement. It then launched itself into the air towards my face. I wheeled around, swinging Q wildly whilst suppressing screams of terror. Creature previously thought to have been skin has now finally come to rest on the wall above my bed. Fuck you, it seems to be saying. Fuck you.

4:19AM: I risk my mother's wrath at being woken by my creaking door and flee to the bathroom, both to compose myself and assemble more effective weaponry, namely giant handfuls of toilet paper.

4:28AM: I return to the battlefield. Not wanting to risk bits of the creature that I really wish had actually been skin falling into my bed, I turned my attention to the other one, which was having a rest from scuttling along the ceiling on the wall beside my cupboard.

4:30AM: Further hesitation. Maybe I could sleep without resorting to murder? After all, they're probably just as scared of me as I am of them?
As I dawdle, a familiar sinister rustling noise makes me turn round just in time to spot the not-so-much-skin one's gleeful descent onto Shaun the Sheep's head. Stifling a roar of fury, I lunge at its companion, and the original nightmarish beast is crushed deep within the mound of tissue. I allow myself a brief victory dance, cut short as the remaining insect alights from Shaun and escapes down the side of my bed.

4:31AM: I start shifting furniture to get a clear aim at my enemy, only vaguely aware of how much noise I am making.

4:34AM: Irksome bed and cabinet out of the way, I begin my attack. I miss, the creature attempts to flee, I lunge again and manage to squash at least half of it. A scene out of my worst nightmare ensues. Wild buzzing and legs everywhere as I fight to keep it within the toilet paper.

4:38AM: Victory is mine after nearly forty minutes of intense mental and physical anguish. I return to the askew bed at last. I try to sleep, but the terrible crawling sensation across my skin persists. The intruders may be dead, but what if they laid eggs?

Tomorrow I finally get to wear my new uniform, possibly the single most exciting thing to happen over the course of my three year employment. As fantastically stylish as the new polo shirts are, I could in all honesty go in wearing a Sainsburys outfit and no one would notice, for they shall all be staring at my AMAZING PERSONALISED MUFFIN BADGE.



Coming to a supermarket near you!

One of the things record companies most enjoy, other than signing terrible bands like Scouting For Girls, is periodically terminating their contracts with artists that I like. Fair enough, Sinead Quinn probably had it coming, but Siobhan?!

Reasons Why Siobhan Donaghy Should Not Be Dropped By Parlophone

1. I like her.
2. Her songs are quite good.
3. Her album sold AT LEAST ten thousand copies. Possibly.
4. She's nice.
5. Um...
6. Have I mentioned that she's quite good and I like her?

Drop Coldplay instead!