Mo' money

I have, largely out of vanity, signed up for Movember, whereby I'm supposed to grow a moustache and get sponsored lots of money for it, in order to fight cancer. I had initially intended my good deed for the month to be the Mini Miss Ireland competition, but the lassies from St. Pat's declined my help, on the spurious grounds that my appearance onstage in a bikini might spark riots in Copper's on Thursday night.

Truth is, I rather like having a mo'. A coat of arms for your face, as the website puts it. As arduous fundraisers go it's certainly not up there with running a marathon or appearing half-nude in front of a load of cops and farmers, but should you, Strangers from the Internet, feel so inclined as to stick something towards prostate cancer research my Mospace is here. If not, then see if you can identify me among this craftily constructed mo'saic (see what I did there?). I join some illustrious company, I can tell you. Super extra bonus kudos to anyone who can name all eleven of my moustachioed brethren.

Idealess

Right, the old muse has well and truly fucked off on me for a while. I want to write something stinging about what that complete and utter cunt (first time I've used that word on this blog and it's gone to someone truly deserving) Myers said in the Independent last week but it still makes me angry and, as my last post shows, I'm not all that coherent when I'm feeling a bit shrill.

So I keep sitting here late at night meandering around other people's blogs and trying to think of some sort of subject to post about. But even my standard filler of my 'What others were feeling like today' posts seem like too much effort. So I just get all tired and frustrated and don't sleep, don't do the day job properly, and then sit here the next night feeling the same. It's fucking great craic altogether.

So what I'd like now is some ideas from other people for things I could write about, as it usually only takes a spark to get the juices going, a drop in a puddle to make the oceans roar, a bird inthe hand to make stitches from sow's arses (and other such mixed or non-existent metaphors). I've written stories that began with one word or sentence a friend said to me so why not blog posts.

So leave any old idea for something to write about in the comments below or email me at thatsnotfunny.andy@gmail.com and throw any old random thing at me, or coherent ideas if that's more your bag. If I use them I'll be very grateful and will certainly credit you with the idea and probably buy you dinner in a fancy restaurant and then never call again.