New Year is cancelled

The Hogmanay celebrations in Edinburgh have been cancelled.

Arthritis in my bawbag couldn't stop me from the street party, nor could the fact that I've broken both my legs, but hey nonny, nonny, the pigs have decided driving rain and seventy mile per hour winds are not good conditions to stage an open-air pop concert. The nellies.

I've fought wars (sure, they were computer games) and trudged the streets in full drag. The weather has never stopped me yet... Until tonight.

I was so excited, but now am quite sad. I'm actually considering drinking a herbal beverage - from a mug! It's either that or suicide, dear reader. What should Minge do? You decide.



Mary's so cheesed off, she's gone to bed. I told her to stay up for the booze, the bells and the bonkers behaviour, but she took off to her room before I had a moment to beg. I think she's mostly upset because she was going to invite some of her wild friends around here as soon as Ian and I were out the door. I've a secret notion they drink absinthe, smoke pot and wrestle in the mud.

I was so looking forward to seeing Pet Shop Boys. I don't suppose they'll perform tomorrow or in the next few days and wonder if I'll get my money back for the tickets. I doubt it. They'll call it an act of God. An act of Satan, more like.

Happy new year, y'all. Let's hope it turns out better that it's beginning.