I felt a little flat and heavy chested . . . . what is this icky fog Im in today? . . . . . Oh SHIT . . . . . Im Homesick
Thats all I freaking need . . . .
Please someone tell me that there is some cooky nanna remedy for Homesickness, like standing on you're head whilst downing a Jager Bomb or spinning around 12 times while singing 'Backstreets back' and then jumping over a bar stool without falling over . . . . I need a quick fix, because this horrible disease tends to come and go whenever it pleases randomly plaguing us and over staying his welcome.
Sir Richard Branson, we have all heard of you're grand plans to have regular flights into space and back for the insanely rich . . . . yes, its rather impressive, but how about SUPER fast flights from London to Sydney so you can do day trips for about $10 a pop - I think thats a much better idea, cater for the 'living of tips' demographic so we dont have to feel Homesick every second or so day.
Or alternatively I could build a giant slingshot in the paddock next door and pop home in time for dinner . . . . .
hmmmmm . . . . . I will let you know how this goes
. . . . . If I die, please play Enya and Michael Buble at my funeral and I want only white tulips, no roses or babies breath and there better be some serious crying people, after all who will be there to entertain you daily with mindless drivel? Yeah, thats what I thought, you're crying already arent you . . . its ok, let it all out, you will feel better.