Life is a f***ing popularity contest

Never has this been made more clear to me than this New Years Eve. Annalise and I had spent the night in a pub in Brighton with some friends. On the way home, at about 1am, it was pouring with rain, so we nipped into another pub and joined the dancing throng upstairs. In an effort to win my own robot I entered a robotic dancing competition. Myself and a group of other people ascended the stage and danced as if we were metal. I danced as if my arms were pneumatic and my legs had servos. Like the bastard child of Johnny 5 and Michael Jackson, I was indefatigable. No one could stop me, as more and more people were pulled off the stage for rubbish dancing I remained. My body coursed with feelings of hope, I could win! Even the judges had commented that they had found a winner. Then it was down to 2 people, me and a pretty girl. When the judges stated they were going to let the audience decide my heart sank. "Don't take away my robot!" I thought. Although the audience's cheers for my performance were laudable they could not compete with the whistling for the pretty girl, and her weak ass dancing, she was dancing like a robot that was so hi-tech it could completely mimic human motion. I WAS ROBBED. The judges even apologised afterwards citing my dancing as the best they had seen....

...right now I've got that out of my system... Happy New Year everyone, sorry to be away for so long, I've been somewhat distracted by a beautiful punkrock vegan!