I've spent the past two hours on the phone to two different estate agents, two departments within BT, four people at Sky, the gas company, the electricity company and the Inland Revenue. So full of hate right now. And there was me, naively believing that the packing, cleaning and shifting of boxes would be the difficult part of moving home. If BSM ever becomes a huge, multi-departmental company I hereby swear to never install a phone system, ask anyone to press buttons on a menu, give account details to an answer phone robot or speak to someone with a Scottish accent so thick you could be mistaken for thinking that you're on the phone to Rab C Nesbit.
Do you want to hear a brilliant rumour? An incredible, out of the blue lie, with absolutely no provocation from myself, which has since been dragged through a small Chinese whispers system, a couple of nights ago in London I was told that I apparently had BSM valued and found that it was worth three quarters of a million pounds. Unfortunately I got drunk and actually gave away £800,000 through the night, including £100k for someone to drink my shot of rum which the smell of was making me feel very sick, and £180k for the referee of the BSM 5-a-side football tournament to throw the match. I also sold a 1% share to Jack for all of the change in his pocket, a good bit of business on his part as there definitely wasn't £7500 in there. But just before this rumour goes any further I thought I'd mention it and let you all know that I have never had the company valued, wouldn't know where to go to receive such a service and strongly, strongly doubt that the Big Scary Monsters is worth anything more than a pat on the back and the handing over of Myspace login details. Of course, if anyone has £750k laying around and fancies splashing out, you know where to find me - at home, packing my bags for the Bahama's, sticking my fingers up at Sky and their phone machine robots.
PS. Anyone going to Truck festival tomorrow: This Town Needs Guns. Barn stage. Saturday. 1.30pm. Do it.