Children Of The Damned.

I'm totally knackered. A weekend of almost constant drinking has disrupted my sleep routine and turned my liver to foie gras. I attended an in-law's 'end of summer' party on Saturday, which was attended mostly by what would be my number one of things to put in Room 101- Posh Children. I think this is related directly to Emu's Pink Windmill Show, where a bunch of posh kids would jump around like a bunch of hyperactive spaniels and sing 'There's somebody at the door!" repeatedly every time some desperately-needs-the-work actor rang the doorbell. I always wanted Grotbags to win, because she reminded me of my Nan, only my Grandmother isn't bright green, nor does she hang around with a crocodile. (On a related note: RIP Steve Irwin. You should've wore sunscreen, mate. It protects you from harmful rays.) No, the posh kids won. Also, I attended an all-boys' Grammar school, whilst being obviously working class, which developed in me a kind of inverse snobbery. If anybody 'talks nice', generally, I'll hate them straight away. So. I don't like 'posh' kids. They still call their mothers 'Mummy' when they're teenagers. They go to auditions. They like school. They play recorders.They have lisps and can't say the letter 'R' and have horses instead of bikes.
So, anyway, we turn up at this family party, and as soon as I've got rid of my coat (it was pissing it down), I'm off to the kitchen, as usual, to grab myself a beer when these strange 11-year-old girls start talking to me, whilst I'm rummaging around for a bottle opener.
"Oh, helloooo," says one particularly precious girl "You talk funnily, are you Australian?" She makes it sound as if being antipodean is worse than being a sex case.
"No, I'm from Birmingham, from Stechford, just up the road."
"Ohhh, so you're a 'Brummay' " The last word being an affected accent. Imagine that, a real live Brummie in Birmingham! How quaint!
GGRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, the rest of the weekend was better, but tiring, and it seems I spoke too soon about finishing the ArtsFest project. I must've had to re-letter the thing about eleventy times. They want the council logo bigger, they don't want it there, replace 'Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery' with just 'BM&AG' and back again. But, it IS finished now, and they like it that much they're replacing the designs on the glossy ArtsFest brochure with images from the strip. Which is nice. They've also asked me to join the Council Arts Dept.'s Artists database. And I finally got paid for some work I did for John McCrea, so all in all, I'm quite pleased with myself tonight. Watch some fucker spoil it tomorrow. Some fucker with an RP accent.