Ha ha ha, I’ve called my new blog Hand Shandy. That’s a euphemism for wank, which is what this glorious, syrupy user-generated content is going to be. Total pish.
“But Butler, why are you blogging again? You’re about as enticing and interesting as a prostate exam!” I hear you cry. And you’re very right to make that assertion, but if I hit that sweet spot, you’ll go off like an errant garden hose.
However, for whatever reason, only known to whatever benevolent force controls my arms and legs, I’ve decided to get back into the ropey old game of half-arsed op-eds and professional swearing. Whilst this blog may be about as sane and subtle as Theresa May’s nuclear strategy, it probably will result in fewer innocent casualties.
In this we’ll discuss a lot of topics, sticking to an infrequent and disjointed timetable, with six blogs in a week, then nothing for four months. It’s how it goes. It’s how it’s always gone, and as far as I’m aware, how it always will go.
But for now, I’ll be back soon, or not at all, to subject you to my opinions, which you don’t want, but you’re here anyway. What am I going to talk about? If I knew, I’d tell you. I can drive now, couldn’t do that before. I could review cars. It worked out quite well for
Jeremy Clarkson, er, Chris Evans, er, Autocar magazine.