The Ghetto goes all, er, surreal! New Adventures in Bowls, Afros and Wigs!

This is the Scribbler saying: you wanna mess? Because if you do, you've got me and my afro to contend with... and Zhao in a wig...






















Confused about the sudden er, random nature of the blog? (as if it's never random... but I guess Zhao dressed as a Thai lady who may not be a lady after all is getting more random than usual!)Maybe I should explain...

As I write, we have just one week left in the Ghetto.

Already, things are getting emotional. George is crying himself to sleep every evening, while Zhao, alternatively, is crying himself through intensive study for a Economics MA. Each to their own, I say..! Me? I'm emotional. Who isn't?

Things get more complicated when you haven't found a new flat yet. Oh yeah. And they get even more complicated when the agent letting out the flat you wanted calls you to say that offering to pay the asking price just isn't enough. He wants more!

That kind of thing makes me very emotional indeed. And the main emotion? Anger. Anger, and relief. Why relief? Because I'm not an estate agent any more, and ain't I glad that's so!

Rant over.

And as for a new job, well I ain't got one of those either. It's one of those times that calls for forgetting your problems and letting your hair down. Or at least, putting some fake hair on... as George is testifiying here...
















Suits him, I think!

And let our hair down we did! After a slap-up dinner where Zhao mischeviously burned the roof of George's mouth with a wanton green chilli, what were we to do but celebrate the near end of an era by picking up some bouls and playing a good old game on the Ghetto carpet?





















It just so happened that I had some, er, props from a VEE-TV shoot that day... things got crazier than usual from there.
















No need for more words, I'm guessing. All I can say is don't we look nice in our gear...

You don't have to agree. You know the truth.