hiphop is dead.

THERE'S NOTHING BETTER THAN YOUR BROTHERS.

Today i finally proved that there IS infact a LAKE/RESEVOIR at Bardgate Park.


SEE.


In addition to this i found out that Abi belongs in a mental institute,


Ben is a fucking animal,


and Joe looks rather small, here.


still about a two/three though.


PEACE.

[Shelley Coles seeks man or horse]

"i'm a BEAUTIFUL lady,
with long GOLDEN hair,
and HUGE breasts.

On our first date, i'll hug your BREATH AWAY,

I CAN DO IT ALL NIGHT IF YOU WANT ME TO....

So COME, COME aboard the LOVE TRAIN."

SHELLEY seeks DARK haired, blue eyed MUSIC fanatic, intelligent, stamp COLLECTOR with emotional instabilty, who isn't affraid to CRY (or kiss boys.)

If you're interested call Shelley Coles of Newbold Verdon.

 Lolita, Lolita. What a woman?

   (a.k.a SHELLEY COLES)

 wanna be in my gang?

No Mr. Jones this is neither the time nor the place for topless
sunbathing.
No Mr. Snelson i would not like to catch the shells in my cleavage.
Please stop touching my shoulders Mr. Branston.. and just because
you remeber my name does not mean that i will give you any more points.
Mr. Husthlewait, just because you are champion of the world does not
mean you can cheat.
Yes Mr. Quinney you did just miss, and however loud you shout at me i
am not changing my mind.
Mr. Hall, your friends standing behind me are intimidating.
Mrs. Wooley, i don't care that you are a woman.. Mr. Wooley is not
allowed to coach you.... it is infact CHEATING.
Yes Mr. Beastall i would like a wine gum.
Mr. Godber, please stop trying to do my job.
Mr. kapeloqieuoous i am not even going to attempt to pronounce your
name.
Yes Mr. Watkins step right up.
Yes i am wearing sun cream but it is none of your buisness Mr. Johnson.
Mr. Shirley you cannot do it twice. It's just not fair.
YES, i am a girl, it is not a novelty and i can do it just as well
as the boys so please stop commenting on this Mr. Rickman.
Number 118, please do not make the 118 118 joke.. again.
Mr. Hickman, just go away, i don't even want to look at your number.

Repercussions of last night are bad. Very bad.

The last few days have been absolutely fucking excellent. I've had a really good time. I'm sorry I have written so much!

On Tuesday morning, Keith, Helen and I set off on the long journey to Scotland. Before we had even left Leicestershire, Keith had already nearly crashed the car and had probably offended Helen on several occasions. Despite this the journey went reasonably quickly, we slept, talked about careers and listened to ocean colour scene.
Once in Edinburgh we stopped at ASDA, (my dad's favourite place,) and bought excessive amounts of alcohol for small amounts of money, curry, chicken and other essentials whilst Keith told Helen of his ingenious ideas for an ASDA advert. Helen was then given a guided tour of Edinburgh. I had once again forgotten how beautiful Edinburgh actually is, the view from Arthur's seat was particularly breath taking but the city was over-run with police however there were no riots.
At the flat we ate curry and got ready to go out. We were dropped off at princess street and headed to Rose Street, where we found Filthy McNastys. We stayed for one and told each other secrets whilst a small woman tried her best to sing-a-long to a dirty dancing song. Mad Dogs was a small underground bar where we drank creamy vodka shots and various other spirits. A man behind us insisted we go to his club, called the Leftbank where there was some sort of jazz night going on. We got directions and left but could still not find it anywhere so we stopped at another underground bar where they played Kaiser Chiefs and we drank beer. But not fosters because it is virtually impossible to get any in Scotland. Helen spotted a flyer for a club which was free to get in. We caught a cab and asked them to take us to the honey comb. It was the most amazing club, with all sorts of rooms, like caves and interconnecting corridors and even a room that looked like a womb where they smoked weed.
We boogied on down, danced with some lesbians and got lots of people to come on stage, when Helen looked like a hooker, proudly showing off her bra. I fell in love with the barman.
A man began to follow us round, he wanted us to go back the next night, we said we might and left. A taxi picked us up and we asked her to take us as far as she could for three pounds forty six, as you can imagine it was not very far at all. So we walked the rest of the way, taking photos and laughing.
My dad was waiting for us when we got home at some time past three. He wasn't impressed. We pretended to be sober, but he knew.

Wednesday we got dropped off at the royal mile and bought two CD's, presents, a green jacket for six pounds, some wicked sunglasses for six pounds also, and a poster. We also met a gothic, eccentric gay man who was really enthusiastic about everyone. We both fell in love with him.
At about 2 o'clock we spotted a vintage shop called Armstrong's. We went in, and found it to be full of treasures. We tried on wigs, moustaches, fifties clothing, cardigans, made friends with a boy and a girl from Newcastle (Ruth and Dan), who both looked not a day younger than 25 but were actually our age. Helen bought the coolest jacket I have ever seen in my life, and we all got moustaches. We agreed to meet later as we were all going to LIVE8! It then rained, a lot, so we found refuge in a cafe.
The concert was fantastic, the Proclaimers, Travis, Mcfly, snow patrol and Annie Lennox were all so so good. My favourite moment was when the whole crowd spontaneously sang, Oh flower of Scotland. I knew some of the words; Helen knew none but merrily pretended that she did. JAMES BROWN WAS AMAZING! I LOVE HIM!
Ruth, Dan, Helen and I walked back into town, but could find nowhere open, or willing to accept Dan's trainers. So we wandered the streets for a while. As we were walking along princess street Ruth said, 'Oh look there's Bono.' And sure enough across the road Bono got out of a car and was ushered into a hotel. I shouted Helen, as Helen is actually Bono and both got very excited! We started to walk again, across the bridge towards the castle. A boy asked us if he could borrow a phone and Helen gave hers to him and took his hat as a kind of strange deal. As he was using the phone another car pulled up, and a huge black man in a shiny red suit got out. It was Lennie Henry. He looked pissed off and very tired. We said hi, and he smiled, waved and disappeared into the hotel.
The boy using the phone just followed us back down the hill and across the bridge, as we turned the corner a giant crowd was gathered at the front of the same hotel we saw Bono arrive at a few minutes earlier. ‘GELDOF!’ The boy shouted and we all ran after him to catch a glimpse of the man himself. I really wanted to talk to him, tell him things and listen to what he has to say, but then again I probably would not know what to say. The boy, who we later found out, was called Richard, or Mark, took us to a bar, with extravagant curtains, and amazing furniture. We all sat down and talked. Richard had just fallen asleep on a train and ended up in Edinburgh; he had nowhere to stay, and had just managed to get into LIVE8 without a ticket. He was intelligent and just a genuine person, but we were all in awe of him. We played pool, got their phone numbers, or in Richards’s case gave him ours, as he didn't have one. He said we could go and stay with him in the woods... I’m not sure what that meant but I am intrigued to see if he does call.
Helen and I ran to George Street and met my dad. He drove us back and did not seem at all mad at the fact that it was 3.30 and he didn't know where we had been. We ate sandwiches and both confessed our love for Edinburgh. I am definitely going to University there. It is just indescribable.

I had the best fucking time ever.