Things we did in 2009

So, the year is almost over and I'm off to Mexico for a month. There's you not getting pissed on shitty Tesco own brand lager that your step dad hid in the garage, whilst I'm out adventuring in some Mayan ruin with my Zezaurian cap soaking up the heat. Hard luck.

But don't fret - I've left you with a bunch of really, really bad pictures of people you probably don't know doing things you don't care about. Behold! Our year in shitty pictures:

I gloried in the fact that Mr Morose and I invented a pointless society that means so much more to random and troubled drunk people that they'll let you draw a lopsided 'Z' on their spotty back. Thanks weirdo reveller!

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Drib Drab finally tied the knot with his long-term partner and business associate, "Duncan". Or just stood next to him at a wedding. I forget which.

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Drib Drab forgot that he looked like this in the morning and continued on his day until a lady shopkeeper maced him in the face and called him a "shitty burglar."

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This was probably my favourite wee in the whole of 2009. Classic.

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2009 was also the year that I learned I was raised as a girl until the age of four.

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What is all this you wonder? This, here, is how much stuff our friend Stuart needs to stay just one night in a flat that's not his own. We have here a mini-mattress, a fucking thermal underlay, two pillows, a sleeping bag, mosquito net and a giant box of extra absorbent tampons for those pesky Night Bleeds.

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"Let's take mum and dad, and auntie Val and uncle Neil out for dinner. You know, something really special."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll book somewhere."

To be fair, the food was really nice but this really was in the entrance.

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So we find out it's someone's birthday and my assistant, Miss Hope, excels herself by giving them these amazing cakes. The best part is that you can make any phrase you like. My favourite is still "fuck rot" - as in, "your cock has a bad case of fuck rot, you cunt head."

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Cave men started the ball rolling with face-painting-whilst-high thousands of years ago. I'm glad modern man has managed to hold on to that tradition.

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What are those guys really for that sit in the toilets of bars and give you soap and aftershave? I've always assumed they were there to stop people taking and selling drugs. This 'Toilet Caddy' was by the far the nicest guy I've ever met in a lavatory and he didn't care that everyone was hoofing coke up their hooters. He washed my hands, patted them dry and gave me some Armani to spray on my balls. Drib Drab didn't really want me to give him any money, so he promised him he could have his picture put on a blog that only a few dickheads read. Look how fucking high he is!

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This man represented me in court.

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Hanging tough at Z-HQ, circa April 2009.

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This girl's eyeballs are so massive that it takes her eyelids over 20 seconds to blink. Waking her up in the morning requires you to listen to Also Sprach Zarathustra.

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See you next year doinks.