Evil seagulls (not suitable for those of a sensitive disposition, or pig lovers)
A DikDik with no sense of personal space.
And last night, in a blaze of feathery, dairy glory, Butter German Shepherd.
The City Road noted, very perceptively, that it looks oddly like Lionel Richie. Especially Lionel Richie sculpted by the blind chick in the video for 'Hello' (also available to you thanks to the awesomeness of being alive in 2010)
As a result, and in a fit of ill-judged enthusiasm I have agreed to sculpt Queen Fabiola, the Belgian queen mother, in butter. She of the unfeasibly high Mekon forehead and giant cloud of purple hair.
Look, here she is:
I think hair accounts for approximately 63% of her by volume and weight.
It might take me a while. So far I have managed this:
I will post the finished masterpiece later. My blood alcohol level is too low for this degree of creativity.
I need all the ridiculousness the internet has to offer. I am headachy and self-loathing and unproductive in all fields but cupcake eating. Some stupidly expensive tickets I should never have bought have been misdelivered meaning that I can't fucking well resell them. So that's cough-nearly three hundred quid-cough worth of my own idiocy staring me in the face. No, please don't tell me what I could have bought with this money, I am suffering enough. Instead, I am telling myself I have bought a valuable lesson about not being a total dickhead. Self-knowledge is, after all, a prize beyond rubies. Or something. This Saturday will be tinged with regret that Cruel Tea can't go to this mad event at Liberty - we applied, but the short notice and our being several hundred miles apart has prevented it. Shame, since it sounds potentially very hilarious. If anyone goes along, can they tell me about it? Ah well, at least it is 2010 and I can sulkily watch DVDs in bed tonight with a vodka tonic rather than throwing myself under the wheels of a train. And the children can play Nintendo rather than hanging themselves in cupboards because they are "too menny".
Right, I am going to stop whining and try and hack a path through the piles of strip cartoons, dinosaur magnets and baking supplies to the kitchen. Let's reconvene later for sophisticated butter sculpture.