Southeast England - 6am: The sound of the alarm is unpleasant. Ear drum buggery. Generic alarm tones were composed in Hades by Lucifer's backstair spawn.
BBC Breakfast TV. "....and here's Carol with the weather." Enlighten us Carol. "...a band of low pressure bringing intermittent showers throughout the week..." Wipe that smirk off your face, Carol. You are my least favourite person on the planet, Carol. Including the minister of transport, Carol.
Change channel.
Good Morning Britain. Susanna Reid. Those legs. That filthy grin. Seismic underpant activity. Shall I? I suppose I could work one into my morning bathroom duties. Not enough time. Balls fit to burst. No, yes, no, yes, no...yes...no. Get off the fucking television Reid, you callous slut.
Change channel.
BBC2. Documentary. Cheese making in the 17th Century. Peace at last.
Northeast Thailand - 6am: The cocks are restless. They don't sleep, ever. Their incessant shrieks of blue murder perpetually permeate the barnyard. The deep-seated hatred I habour for them will result in either mass murder or a massive stroke. I'm awake...
Hangover. Pounding head. Mouth like molten pig manure. Fundamental motor skills dubious. Do the day or let the day do you. Top-up urgently required. Motorcycle. Local Shop. Professional peasant croons broken ballad. Drink. Drink. Drink. Vomit in ditch. That's better.
Southeast England - 8am: The hamster begrudgingly re-enters the wheel. Bus. Standing capacity 14. Ding. Ding. Misuse of the stop button. Sniggers from the teenage contingent on the backseat. Overweight, borderline obesity. Standing capacity 4 with an armpit in the face. Tourettes sufferers. Kunt on a loop. Morning is broken.
Train. "This service is full and standing." Quelle surprise. Iphones brandished amid the melee. Can't you leave that fucking thing alone for just two seconds. It's like Dixons on wheels in here. Hide behind copy of the Metro and scan the sport pages. Liverpool for the league. Liverpool are shit. Man City for the league. Ryan Giggs had sexual relations with my great aunt's pet badger. David Moyes exiled in south Paraguay with a harem of guinea pigs.
Croydon. Blood on the pavement. Ganja in the air. Pubs full at 9am.
Northeast Thailand - 8am: Drink. Drink. Vomit. Sticky rice. Boiled egg. Water. Not doing that again. Until the next time, anyway.