You Gotta Love the Aussies

http://uk.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUKSYD22265820080715?feedType=nl&feedName=ukoddlyenough

A man convicted of his 7^th drink driving offence over five years after splitting up with his missus was spending nearly £500 a week on beer, surprisingly the judge didn’t pass a jail sentence but instead simply banned him from drinking or holding beer for 12 months. The best part of this entire thing was though that when he sentenced the judge said ''(That is) poor judgement on two counts there -- drinking that much and drinking Melbourne Bitter,''

While this comment was founded over the Aussies support of their beer rivalling that of their support for their various teams it is refreshing to see that not all countries have become so legally wound up in red tape as the British systems.

Sunday Blues

I think on some occasions Sundays are even worse than Mondays.

If you cant find anything to do you sit there, bored, and becoming increasingly aware that tomorrow you will be working and that you should possibly be doing something.

I don't think there is anything on gods green earth as mind numbingly boring as Sunday afternoons with the possible exception of Big Brother, Which is a lot of people who have personality disorders set in the location of a perpetual Sunday afternoon.

Big Brother is not only as heavily boring as a Sunday afternoon but also intensely annoying, rather like incredibly bad tooth ache.

In other news me and the Girlfriend are officially back together, though I'm not sure how long for. She is really nice and I do like her but sometimes it just doesn't feel like a relationship. No it is not Aussie girl by the way, that is long dead and buried.

However, I was thinking of getting an electricians/Carpenters qualification, doing a few years work over here and emigrating to New Zealand or Australia. I do think that it might just be a bad idea though as my natural 'couldn't give a shit' attitude may just win me the Darwin award as I step onto a poisonous shell like creature, jump backwards into a poisonous spiders web, flail around and get my leg bitten off by a crocodile (Ironically saving me from the poison) before falling into a watering hole and being savaged by a duck billed platypus.

Maybe I'll just move to Melbourne, the worst that could happen tome there is getting run over by Harold Bishop.

Anyhow, back to procrastinating.