The Underground Man is Watching You (in association with the neighbourhood watch)

My first 'official' post on this blog has gained me one follower.

One post=one follower.

Theres something there I think. Lets see how the internet reacts to this post. Will there be another follower this time tomorrow. I very much doubt so.

We had a visitor today to the flat. His name was David and he worked for the council of Edinburgh. He was banging on about some sort of anti-social behaviour acts of terrorism on my lovely quite street. He asked if I would mind if he sent out a diary in which I would keep a note of any sort of anti-social behaviour on the street.

The fool didn't know I already have a diary in the form of this blog but he was old and has probably no idea that the internet exists let alone is pretty much constantly buzzing around in the sky.
When he left, I realised that keeping a note on what your anti-social neighbours are up to is a form of spying otherwise known as being part of the neighbourhood watch. Although not officially a neighbourhood watch the principles are the same if not identical. I always knew that one day I am destined to join such a society, but it upsets me to realise that I caved in so early in life.

Here is a picture to let you know the sort of crowd I am now involved with. As pleasent as this bunch of characters look, I am fairly confident they hold a dark secret....don't know what yet but give it time. Give it time.

Strangly enough, McSly did not partake in my discussion with David, even though he was in the flat at the time of the visit!

Suspicious - I think so. This leads me to believe that McSly probably has something to do with the anti-social behaviour so I will have to keep an eye on him. He is always throwing big blocks of lead onto the floor in a vain attemt perturb our neighbour downstairs. She will rue the day.

In a strange twist to the end of this post - I will include a literary quote to give my follower(s) something to think about.

"...in injection moulding, a reciprocating ram is used rather than a screw" from Engineering Design with Polymers and Composites

Great stuff, wouldn't you say.

The Tales from the Undergound Man

It begins...



Well, here we are. Tales from the underground man. For many months now I have 'talked' about creating my own blog - and I have finally decided to follow through on it. This blog will be host to the wondrous things that surround me - whether it be what I ate for dinner or what time I woke up I will strive to keep it as interesting as possible.I don't quite understand the concept of blogging. It strikes me as bizarre that not only will I be taking time out every day to write this, but that someone else other than me and my flatmate will be actually reading it. Ironically, I used to be anti-blogging, until about 5 minutes ago I thought the idea of expressing myself through a medium of blogging ridiculous. 'Why type when you can talk' I thought to myself in a particularly narrow minded view of this brave new world we call the present. But now I feel that the internet has consumed me due to the fact that my laptop is almost constantly on and attached to my lap (goodbye underground children of tomorrow).So please enjoy it - because I probably won't enjoy writing it and there must be some positives to come out of all of this...



I got up at about 11 to the great news that the new episode of lost was online - so I watched it with a cup of coffee and an open mind. I feel you need to leave your inhibitions at the door with a program like Lost as it can get a bit out there - especially with the whole time-travelling aspect. My flatmate then went for a haircut - which is a first. Before he resembled a more 'human' bigfoot, but after a shave and haircut he just looked like a human.For the purpose of this blog - I will refer to him as Mcsly - because he would like that.



Branson - all hail those saucy sluts!



Kudos to branson. Not only have they successfully re-invented the rule-book on baked bean manufacturing, but the crafty bastards have also hit the nail on the head when it comes to tomato sauce - or tommy as it is known when I am feeling saucy (pun most definatly intended).I will start with their beans. They are richer in taste and texture than their heinz counterparts as well as ticking all the right boxes in the packaging department - the snazzy silver label never fails to impress. For many months now I have been buying branson over heinz and quite frankly I will never go back to what was once the king among men of beans.I don't really have a great deal to say about their tommy, I had a bit of it on a bacon sandwich this morning... well it was more of this afternoon after I got lost in the world of Lost. It is easier to control the flow of sauce than heinz tommy which hasn't really had any decent competition in its history. The branson also comes with an extra reassuring click when it is closed which may seem mundane to most - but for some reason I find it quite satisfying.



Phil Collins



My 'other' flatmate goes by the name of Phil Collins. He is not the Phil Collins, but might as well be because he annoys me just as much if not more than the real thing. I have just been informed by Mcsly that his full name is Mr Phillip J. Collins Esq.The problem with Mr Phil, is that he insists on taking these dirty, disease ridden rodents back to my abode. I can say in all honesty that I hate them and everything they stand for. That is not to say that I 'hate' Phil - he is just a bit of a twat who barely ever speaks apart from the odd 'hello'.

The frustrating this about Phil is that he has the most wonderful alter-ego known solely as 'Simba'. He can often be seen elegantly running through the desert plains with some upbeat 'let's take back pride rock' music in the background. This alter ego is only summoned once in a blue moon.

It should be important to point out that Phil is actually a rat. A stuffed one at that. And when I say 'stuffed' I mean he is a toy from ikea.
Below is a picture of Phil after 'seducing' some ladies of the night for an orgy of drugs and cheese. Good luck and Godspeed Phil - you dirty fucking rat!