11.00 a.m in the Big Wheeliebin house – and let me tell you, all fucking hell is breaking loose…

I lift up me top flap to find meself stuck slap-bang, right in the middle of Bristol University’s “Fresher’s Fare” – with some grumpy old arsewipe of a Security Guard kicking 10 shades of shit out of me bin, and telling me, in no uncertain terms, to shift my bloody bin sharpish…

“Hold on a minute….Hold on a minute, arsey chops…Pardon me for flippin’ breathing but I’ve only just got ‘ere ‘aven’t I? And anyway, it’s not my bleedin’ fault where me bin takes me, is it? Got a mind of its own it has. It’s the Master not me…”

And then of course the bleeder wouldn’t start would it? The tardis mechanism being so flippin’ random and all that…

So there I am – stuck there – whilst bollock-chops is whipping himself into a right old froth, getting more and more of a hair up his arse about me moving on.

” ‘Old , ‘old, ‘OLD ya flippin’ ‘orses – I’m trying to start the bastard thing up aren’t I?…Arsehole…”

Anyway, suddenly – and just in the nip of time as it goes – as a whole gang of the little jobsworth bleeders are all over me like a flaming rash of safari ants, intent on flipping me over and doing me some right old physical mischief.

(And what is it with you Security jobsworth facists? We’re only talking Students here – not the fucking Queen (Gawd bless ‘er) you’re guarding the delicate sensibilities of…)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, at last the bastard mythical bastard bin tardis-like mechanism engages (finally), and then off I fark with not a moment to lose, with me hanging my arse out of the bin and pulling my cheeks apart as a parting salute. “Fuck You…”

But then – bugger me – I then re-appear a mere 150 yards up the same bloody road, slap-bang-opposite…a Christian Union flippin’ “Free Burger” BBQ fare…CHRIST ON A BIKE…

Well I say “Free”…Free of course provided you’re prepared to put up with some spotty-specky-twat banging on about Jesus and reeking of moth-balls & talcum powder, whilst your going “yeah, yeah, wo’eva – just make sure Jesus Saves me some flippin’ onions would you mate? Thanks…” and then off you push to try to find the fucking mustard (that is unless of course some bloody Christian’s not gone and necked it all before you can get there). And anyway, I thought they’d stopped doing Christian Barbeques way back in Roman times – so what the bloody hell was going on?

And then – is if all that wasn’t enough – to cap it all, I look up, and there’s this huge great big yellow sign emblazened with HUGE red writing saying: “NO CHRIST, NO LIFE”…

And of course in my case, RUB IT IN WHY DON’T YOU? “NO CHRIST, NO LIFE” and more importantly “NO FUCKIN’ BURGER” EITHER…

OH…COCK & ARSEHOLES – WHAT A FUCKING DAY…

“FRESHER’S FARE?” Wish I was “FRESHER” – I smell like a Buffalo’s arsehole today. And I am so fucking HUNGRY…

“Send me some fuckin’ material over here” and A FUCKING BURGER WHILST YOU’RE AT IT…

Fucking hell…It’s not all glamour being fucking Stan Trolley let me tell you…

Flaming students…Go put a cone on your head and then get – wazzed up in a shopping trolley or something highly original like that…Oh and don’t forget to be fucking hilarious whilst you’re at it – and go put another cone on the head of that Military Statue opposite Habitat as a cheeky chappy chaser…Oh yes – and whatever you do – please, please, please make absolutely sure you put some fucking washing powder in the water of that fountain next to the Victoria Rooms. Hi-fucking-larious…

ARSEHOLES…

Stan

(has got the right old hump)

Oh God …Some arsehole’s gone and thrown a rape alarm into the bin now. It’s going off – it’s wedged somewhere – and I can’t get to it to turn it off….

If “Jesus Saves” – now would be a good time mate…