If I were to review myself. Half a star for effort.

“No bad word can be said about Aiden Pyne for I am most positive that he could be retarded and to say that his comedy is the worst thing to ever grace this planet would be rather mean spirited. At least he is giving it a go. Good job, buddy. Keep up the.. work.”

‎”Aiden seems to have a very tiny brain with a rather small vocabulary. Aiden tends to replace most words with ‘fuck’. Maybe this is because he finds swearing to be hilarious due to his dimwitted nature or maybe it’s because he is too much of a dimwit to think of a better cleaner word.”

“After the show I had learnt that Aiden was caught cry wanking in the venue’s bathroom. Normally I would feel sorry for any person who cry wanks in a public place but when I heard of Aiden’s sadness I could only feel a happiness that karma had struck this poor excuse for a comedian and that maybe the pain we suffered watching his shambles of an act is now hitting him three fold”

Farkin’ Pigeons, mate.

Holy shit England. Your pigeons are hardcore mother fuckers.
Like seriously. Seriously seriously. In Australia if you get within one metre of a pigeon it will fuck off. Here in the UK you can get within one centimetre of a pigeon and it will look at you with it’s beady little pigeon eyes and tell you to fuck off. Pigeons here ain’t scared of shit. You foot can be repeatedly kicking it in it’s stupid little bird head and it would not move a fucking inch. Tough motherfuckin’ pigeons.

I told a friend I’m lonely.

Last night, I was feeling low.
I google searched “How to make friends in a foriegn country”.
I nearly cried because of my lonely thoughts.
I google image searched “funny cats” in an attempt to get cheerier.
It didn’t work.
I finally managed to fall asleep.
I woke up and I felt better.

That’s a lie. I didn’t feel better.
I had a dream about my ex from like two years ago.
Get over her, Aiden.
She may have been the only girl to ever show interest in you but she got bored.
You’ve had two years.
Move on.

I watched Outnumbered all day so that I didn’t have to think.
I spent a bit of time on facebook as well.
I told a friend over facebook chat that I feel alone.
She said it’s a good thing.
That I can use the feeling to create something.
My friend is an actor.
She said that “Solitude is the only pain that can give way to such a sweet balance between objective clarity and difference”

I don’t know what that means exactly.

My ex-girlfriend broke up with me over facebook chat.
She was also talking to my sister on facebook chat.
She told my sister seconds after she broke up with me to go give me a hug.
She told my sister to give me a hug cause she just broke my heart.
Over facebook chat.
I don’t like facebook chat.
People can be so indifferent to your emotions whilst using it.

Me sister said “Tell me a story”. This is the result.

Once upon a time there was a golden gremlin named Harold. Harold was a very special gremlin for most gremlins are the color of sickness.

Not to get off track but I feel as if I have to explain the color of sickness to you. It’s sort of a putrid pukey greenish greyish with a dash of blood red.

Harold lived in a tiny gremlin village called Norvishkur with his aunt Henry and uncle Patricia.
Harold never understood why he was a golden color. Neither did anyone else in the gremlin community. He was quite the outcast because people feared the shimmering golden color of his slimy gremlin body. He spent most days and nights on his own. Until one day a hooded stranger came to Norvishkur.
The gremlins in this community feared this stranger as no-one knew who he was, what he looked like or what he was doing.

Once again getting off track I thought I should let you know, even though it’s pretty clear, Gremlins dislike everything that they don’t understand.

The hooded stranger kept mostly to himself. He ate by himself, he talked to himself, he danced by himself. He slept by himself underneath a lone willow tree just on the outskirts of the town. The only time he would interact with any of the gremlin community was when he needed to use the rest room. He would say “Can I please use the restroom?” in a creepy gravely strange unusual voice.

Off track again but I don’t understand why he didn’t just go to the bathroom outside. What a weird hooded stranger.

One day Harold was feeling quite lonely. He wanted to talk to someone that wouldn’t look at him like he was a freak or wouldn’t talk down to him because he was different. Harold decided to go talk to the hooded stranger.

Harold approached the stranger, greeted him with a “hullo there, hooded stranger” and the hooded stranger stabbed him to death.

I know what you are thinking. What a gruesome and horrid way to end a story but what you don’t realise is the very important morale of the story.

Don’t talk to strangers.

Nothing has happened.

Nothing has happened recently. Sure, I’m in England. That’s different and a pretty big thing to do. Moving to an entirely different country.
But other than that. Nothing really is happening. My world isn’t that interesting.

I haven’t had any relationships. I haven’t been in any fights. There is no action. No drama in my life.

I haven’t been writing due to lack of stimulation. I need some excitement.

I’m in a country where I don’t really have anyone or anything. I’m by myself and I am not a social person. I need to make friends over here. I don’t know how to do that though.

I am in England.

Deleted.

Just went and deleted the majority of my tumblr posts. Kept some favorites of mine. Want to start again. Get committed to blogging. This is me. I am back. Hello.

I also need to start making more videos. Start filming my lol jokes. I need to be more creative in general. Stop being such a lazy sod. That is all for now.

Here is a picture.

Frankston Pub Rule no. 47

Never stab a man at the urinal. Piss could go everywhere.

Be a man. Drink Passion Pop.