BLOODY NARNA WRLD

Ok, its friday, I finally feel in the festive spirit. Right now the Christmas Special of Grime Butlins is exporting, and I've done a load of christmas shopping and today was my last day at work for a few weeks!

We start our re cap with TP's house party. it was rally good fun, had a nice little wave and met a lot of new people.

I was chilling with the homie Mo and Obie, Teeps dog.

I met Paige, and she was like 'are you Sam who writes the Wicked-Land blog?' haha how fucking cool is that? hold tight paige, wicked-lander from daaaay.

teeps had this little wooden thing coming of the ceiling near the stairs. when i was drunk i found this so so funny, and now in the sober light of day i don't really know why. it was fully cracking me up, i think it was because it was completely useless and pointless.

you're right. why bother paying rent AND road tax. stick it to the fucking man. you pay your road tax? you have the right to sleep in your car and nobody can tell you otherwise. fuck the world and its conformist rules and restraints, get your head down bro, I'll catch to you in the morning.

This is good. This is downstairs when you go in the building to go into Darryl's flat. there are some really funny little points in here. My main gripe is I don't think reading a sign is going to make people not slip over. nobody has ever slipped over for a lol. ironically I fell down Darryls stairs a few days later. seriously, that really happened.

You like these turquoise patent slip ons with a little emblem on them? pretty crazy right? id love to see someone wearing these and looking good. Im not saying it can't be done, I just want to see it.

I really really enjoyed eating these things. Tesco pasta pots have been THE wicked-land snack since day 1 but this creamy banoffee pie flavour milkshake was a fucking dream. for a moment when it first gushed into my mouth there were no such things as war and aids. poverty didn't exist and there was no such thing as 'the unobtainable'. life was fucking blinding for a minute.

Bird man is going in, doing his little shubbz. quickly feeding a few pigeons. why would anyone feed pigeons? weird innit. hold tight ducks, because you are a bird i enjoy feeding.

this dinner i made was blinding. the chicken was pure moist and tender and the potatoes were really special too. i boiled them, drained them and then fried them a little with loads of olive oil and seasoning. they were all crispy and spicy. I need to eat more new potatoes, I forget how nice they actually are.

My man was sat in the highcross on the little leather chair things, looking at this page for time. he like what them leggings do innit. nah you do your thing man, get yours.

darryl made a HUGE statement by burning a train ticket. public transport satire? i don't know what is even real anymore. is this good content? make up your own back story for this picture.

I met Darryls new flatmate Scott last night. He seemed like a cool guy and then he absent-mindidly checked the time on his phone. this flashed up as his background. I love frasier and the fact he had this as his background made me think 'yeah, you know what? he IS the best person ever.' it was one of those moments where i instantly felt an affinity to a relative stranger. good work Scott.

Last night a bag of guys took over twitter posting remixes of Ghst Wrld's name. at one point about 15/20 people were going in, from all around Leicester, a few in other cities in the UK and a couple of people from America. It was very fun.

I think now, with like the X factor sob stories and males barely being men with eyebrow plucking and fake tanning the public have a warped perception of how its acceptable to act. Like take this guy.  fully grown man walking down the street dressed as a dinosaur. Is it ok to act like that purely to get attention from other people? would you want that attention from other people? In the early 00's we (As Leicester) made a pact that all these cunts would be sanctioned to one spot, so that normal people could just choose to ignore it and walk by. its called the clock tower. Get the fuck back there you dickhead.

Fucking hell it gets better doesn't it? one leather glove, blue nylon dreadlocks and a YMCMB fitted hat? these are the things i fucking dream of. I thoroughly applaud this guy because he goes hard. he really wants it. Its not for attention, this is just his way of saying 'can i do me please?'

Im a guy for shorts. Im a guy for shorts in cold weather. I champion this shit and say, no! let your legs be cold, but free. what I don't champion is wearing high tops with jean shorts, a t-shirt and a scarf for a laugh. NOT COOL. NOT WICKED-LAND COOL!

this lads legs were mental. his thighs were the exact same width and length as his lower legs. the four different segments of his legs were identical, like a massive 4 finger kit hat wrapped in red demin.

Thats all Ive got for you! I hope you enjoyed reading this post as much as i enjoyed writing it. A bumper edition of wicked-land fun to see you into your christmas period! I'll be back over the weekend with some more stuff. tatty bye!