Danger matches.

Evening, all.
I've not had a whole lot to write about lately. I realise I can only talk so much about running before ye get bored and potter away to another blog (The latest one I'm reading is http://hungryweasel.wordpress.com/ , worth a gander but COME BACK AFTERWARDS.)
I've had a few friends in Edinburgh this past few weeks but I don't want to talk about them too much either. Not that I didn't enjoy myself, I really the fuck did, but if I talked about my social life this past two weeks I'd just end up listing pubs I've sat in and drinks I drank. Nobody likes hearing that. Nobody likes people who list ever single drink they put down their neck. So I won't.
So that doesn't leave me with much to talk about.
Hmm. Y'know what I'll do? I go get some stuffI put onto facebook two years ago, put it here word for word and see how it's aged. A conversation last night reminded me of the time I, for reasons I can't quite remember, bought a box of matches off the internet that you could light anywhere. It's tough finding matches in this day and age that aren't safety matches. It's health and safety gone mad. But I found them, apparently, and got them sent to me. And, on a day off soon after, I pricked about the flat lighting them off things and chronicling it for the fine users of facebook.
So here... we... go.

They don't say safety, so that can only mean one thing... DANGER MATCHES.

I'm not out to impress anyone with this photo. That's for later. I just thought I'd remind you fine folk what matches did.

FFFT! Yep. That. But, well, you can do that with any match. And I didn't make a brand new photo album for any old matches.

For instance, have you ever been having a shower and thought "I'd love to light a match but alas I've only safety matches and the side of the box is gone"?

HAVE YOU?

Me neither
But y'never know.

You'll need tiles and rough grouting in your bathroom, mind. If you've PVC, best bring a lighter.

A seive.
Shit, this album really isn't working out as well as I thought it'd be. But anyway...

I can light my matches on a seive!
Not just for seiving or wearing as a helmet when you're pretending to be in the army!

Wait, what? What'm I gonna light these chaps off?

THEMSELVES?
Noel! You're mad! Stop this, someone will get hurt!

SHUT UP, WORLD.

Took me a good ten minutes between the last photo and this one. Couldn't find anything else to light these boyos against.
Then I found this bottle of, eh, coke...
Nice ridges on the lid, there, I wonder if I could...

BOOYEAH.
So that's me done. Everything I could possibly light a DANGER MATCH off.
Okay, see y'all, wait, what?

My beard?

This beard?
Well, let's see...

No wait, I'll try my good side.
So just... one... quick... snap of the wrist...

Eh... no.
Not happening. Clint Eastwood must've had a jaw made of granite.
That shit ain't happening.

Fuck, I looked fresh then. It ended a bit abruptly, but I wanted to leave it as I wrote it back then. Also, I just realised I've had that viking tshirt for two years now. Classic look right there. Right, I put this up mostly so my blog just didn't go too stale. I do want to keep writing more, but it's not everyday (or week/month) that something comes along to inspire me. If you do have any ideas, leave them below, otherwise I'll end up rating jelly beans out of ten or try and turn ye all atheist. And nobody wants that to happen.