Seems like every day I’m officially a driver I’m seeing more and more rubbish drivers. This week’s one really took the biscuit.

In the West End of Colwyn Bay, you have to turn right (if you’re coming off the motorway) to go up my road. It’s quite a difficult road to turn into, as it’s really busy because the zoo is nearby. As such, there effectively becomes three lanes: one going left, one going right, and the middle one waiting to pull into the road.

Here was the situation that I had:


Yes, somebody who was queuing behind me pulled in front of me to overtake me. I almost hit him, and I didn’t see him. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t make me a bad driver, I just didn’t think anybody would be that stupid. He looked like what me and my friends call “Welsh Farmer Type”: a very dangerous type of older man who shuns modern technology and is generally dangerous to people like myself and to themselves.

In happier news, on Saturday night I headed out to Liverpool with a few friends for a night out. It’s the first time I’ve been out with them for over a year, and the first time I’ve been to Liverpool since July. I never realised how much I missed the city. The people, the vibe, everything. For everybody complaining about binge drinking and the like should’ve been out in Liverpool, I didn’t see any trouble anywhere, and there was even some street entertainers.


Nothing like that in Colwyn Bay! Well, unless you consider “Street Entertainers” as Ryan from Llysfaen vs. Jordan from Mochdre in a street fight on Station Road. Classy.

I was smiling all through my hangover yesterday and most of today, but the funniest thing from the weekend happened in Lloyds.

There’s a popular type of music in Liverpool known as Scouse House. Personally, I hate it, as it’s dance music with not a huge amount of tunes, just loud noises. Anyway, we were in Lloyds with one of these songs came on. Half way through the song, the Lloyd’s alarm – which goes off whenever the back door is opened – went off. It’s timing with the rhythm of the song was perfect, and a bunch of scousers stood next to us were saying “Oh that’s a fucking banging remix right there!”.

So, if you want to make millions, heed this advice: come up with a dance tune, stick a door alarm going off over it, and market it to Liverpudlians.

More photos are available here. Han, rather rudely, noticed that one of the images in there is my O-Face. Can you guess which one? More to the point, would you want to?

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