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| November 9 2001 Friday Problems with football. A fixture clash with my school under fifteen team and my Get Real Madrid team. I've been picked for both, and the school game starts at ten and the other game at eleven. I know that if I tell our sports master Mr Oldcorn that I can't play for the school team he'll have it in for me even more, because he doesn't like me in the first place. The feeling is mutual. If he's a sports master I'm Ronald McDonald. He's supposed to have opened the batting for the Yorkshire second eleven but if he did the third eleven must have been a load of shite, because I bowled him out twice in six balls and one of them was underarm. It's a big problem because if I don't play for Get Real Madrid I might lose my place as there's a lot of competition for wide right. Anyway I've decided to pretend to get an injury towards the end of the first half of the school game, then go and play for Get Real Madrid. Neat, eh? Later I saw Atomic Kitten on MTV. They must be the most ninety-nine-times-change-hands girl band of all time, and it's my ambition to marry one of them, once I'm famous. The only thing stopping that from being el paradiso is that with her being from Liverpool I'll have to put up with that bloody awful accent, but I can always wear earplugs I suppose, and with any luck her mouth might be otherwise engaged for some of the time. Went to the yoofie later where I got a copy of the Inter Milan v AC Milan programme that's going around. It's totally brilliant. No mail again, so it looks like the postman is being true to his word. |