Monday the 18th of April 2011.

I woke up at 9am this morning and was feeling surprisingly fresh and alive. I wasn’t comfortable with this feeling at such an early hour, so decided to go back to sleep. I’m so glad I went back to sleep as I had a great little dream. I dreamt that Beyonce was in my house back home, and I was sat with her on the sofa watching TV. She was stroking my head like I was a faithful dog, while she browsed her Twitter account. I asked her if she ever had to get her agents to buy out things like beyonce.com so that she had the rights to them, and she said she did. I asked her if when she registered on Hotmail she managed to get beyonce@hotmail.com or if it was something crap like beyonce123@hotmail.com. She told me that she had just beyonce@, then asked me why the hell I was asking her all these questions about Internet domains. I told her it was something that had always interested me. I then put Countdown on the TV and was wondering whether or not Beyonce would understand it as she seems quite thick. After the first letters round she got up and left my house. I woke up and was slightly gutted that it was just a dream, as she seemed like a nice woman. I was also surprised that I hadn’t ejaculated all over my boxer shorts.

I often wonder when I dream about celebrities, if at the same time they are also having the same dream. Imagine if Beyonce was having that dream with me in it, then woke up and said to Jay-Z,

“God I just dreamt that I was fondling a hairy man from the north of England whilst watching a word based game show I didn’t understand, and he was asking me questions about registering email addresses.”

I do not think Jay-Z would be best pleased with his piece of ass.

I got up and called the temping agency again. The woman I needed to speak to was on the phone, so a man took my number and said he’d get her to ring me back later. I made myself some dinner and could barely eat it. It was at this point that I realised I was still hungover from Saturday. Quite pathetic.
Faye rang me telling me about how she had decided to leave her unpaid placement she was meant to start today, before even getting past reception. I congratulated her on her bravery.

I changed my bed sheets and walked into town as Orange have slightly buggered up my contract when they upgraded it. On the way to the Orange shop, a trampy looking fellow asked me the time and I told it him. For some reason this made me really happy. I love helping people out. I saw something on TV the other day that said the secret of happiness is helping people and I would tend to agree. I’d only told him the fucking time but for some reason I felt like Gandhi.

I arrived at the Orange shop and the man in there told me to call 150 and they’d sort it out for me. I had basically walked into Manchester city centre to be told to call a 3 digit number. Successful trip.

I came home and called the temping agency back at about 4.30, as they still hadn’t got back to me. The woman was still on the bloody phone, so someone again took my number and said she’d call me back immediately. She didn’t. Why do people lie like this? It’s very annoying.

I watched a couple of episodes of The IT Crowd, ate an Easter egg then made my tea. After tea I sat down and drew this. It’s based on a lyric from Arctic Monkeys’ new song, and I’m thinking of doing a few more for it. I thought of doing this because I went on their website and the t-shirts they’re selling are absolutely shite. I might give them a cheeky little email telling them to use my designs and sort my life out for me.

Go into business with a grizzly bear, but just don't sit down cos I've moved your chair.