Your eyes are like spanners - every time I look them, my nuts tighten

There was no January detox in our hood. Although we took the foot off the drinking gas somewhat, we didn't come slamming to an emergency stop like all the magazines tell you you should. Two fingers to that. Instead we've remained at a low level of drunkenness, enough to get through the working week with a solid spike on the pintometer of a weekend. And now we're in February, we can get back to the normal routine of having enjoying dollops of drink whenever we feel like - hurrah. 

Shit has been real throughout the early part of the year. After the glory of the darts at the Lakeside, there's been injections of culture (visiting London's Roundhouse for a showing of Fuerzabruta), delicious scran (at Mussel Men in Dalston) and the ridiculous (buying a 4kg of onions for £2 - still eating the bastards now). Here are some of the highlights... 

On the travelator

On the telly

Work shoes

Custard on toast

Dancing bear

Rabbit in a cabbage

Zoom in - turns out A Guy Called Gerald has liked a picture of my sister standing outside Greggs

Mucky breakfast

Oh deer

Monolith

Reservoir up past Stoke Newington

Mussel Men's Sunday Roast

London Roundhouse - Fuerzabruta

Cameras ready, prepare to flash

Biggie

Baked camembert

Love scratchies

Lads

Hero

Lamb tagine

Safety first

Pregnancy vs acid trip

Yeah bozo

Wu 4 eva

Eggy

Tony Bleurgh #williammorris

Singing bastards

January is dead - Long live January

January is nearly kaput - and pheweee at times it's been tough. A classic case of post-NYE blues, no dosh and the outside occasionally being colder than the uncovered willy of an eskimo. But despite the standard January fare of chilly despair, there's still been some shit out there worth crowing about. The BDO World Professional Darts Championship at the start of 2012 gave us a reason to get out of bed at the weekends, despite the early departure of favourite Martin 'Wolfie' Adams from the tournament. Our shit telly even decided to work for a brief, wonderful weekend when there were more 'Shanghais in the madness' than you could shake a stick at. The only downer was witnessing Stockport's Silverback lose out in the final. Tony! - gutted for you mate.

January was also large for a delicious cocktail of reasons - not only did we watch a shitload of darts but we started playing it courtesy of investing in a set of 'arrows' and throwing them in the general direction of the board. Many domestic culinary master pieces were nailed. I started a new job. Which I like. Wonders will never ruddy cease...



Winning



The tell tale sign of 'The Child' (our flat mate) being in ... Number 1 - an open loaf



Number 2 - open (obvs) jar of peanut butter



Number 3 - The cupboard door is ajar...



The Child cooking up a frozen soup - Sisters are doing it for demselves...



Barbecue Xpress - Fried chicken stand up!




Mateeeeeeeeee



Poached eggs - In 2012 we're doing things differently...



The sort of sartorial elegance of which even Bobby George would be proud



New shoes



Power, corruption and lies. On a mantlepiece



Darts fucking darts



Taste sensation

January January

Despite the winter blues, it's been a strong month. We went to the Tate Modern, drank some extremely strong coffee, fallen down the stairs, smashed a vase, set off an airhorn, eaten a vindaloo and played numerous hands of shit head. Here's what it looked like



Thursday night is Vindaloo night



The parental fridge - Mainly liquids



Creepy wig child flex



Original kitchen man

Kiss the fist

Shepherd's Pie