My first big bitch of the summer. And I don't mean a fat chick.

Anyway, back in the day of being single and a proud owner of a pair of beer goggles, I wouldn't think about posting a story about shagging some fatty. Have a laugh about it with some mates, but sharing it with the world...? I don't think so.

No, this post is to vent my building anger at the state of my life right now. I'm on holiday from college, my only source of income is from busking in Newquay's tempestous town centre on the evenings. Some arsehole in uniform informed me that, "There's no busking in Newquay." I tried to reason with him, (you can't reason with the police), I've been been busking for weeks, years even, I told him. I packed up my guitar and headed to the pub for a moan to my mates. After a few swift pints I thought it would be worth another shot.

I walked down to my spot, and would you believe it, the same officer came rolling past in his suped up Ford Focus. "What have I told you?" he asked. What did I tell you, I've been doing this since I was sixteen years old. I responded (in my head at least). Again, I packed up my shit and went to another pub. My gut was screaming at this injustice, no amount of alcohol could quell my distain. I was getting bored of hanging around with a few friends and drinking. I wanted to be working, singing, playing. I looked up and down the street, no police cars, no police officers. Quite an interesting tactic taken by the Devon & Cornwall constabulary, especially at two o'clock in the morning, I thought to myself.

I set up again and started playing, nice and laid back stuff, nothing to aggro or loud. I was there a minute, I shit you not. The assclown came at me from my left and tried to take my guitar off my shoulder. "Right, I've had enough of this", he said, trying to remaining calm. My thoughts were exactly the same. At least he didn't have some asshole trying to take his salary from under his nose. "Okay, all right, I'll pack it in", I diplomatically replied, putting my hands up in the air as if he had a gun or something, but also to distance him from taking the guitar from me. I walked home in a state of rage. I dumped my guitar on the floor and realised I had made enough to get hammered and still afford an eighth of green if I could find it.

Newquay's fucking changed, I know it sounds old of me, but literally two, three years ago, it was a different story. My initial thoughts of scoring some weed was Towan Beach. It was deserted. There was four or five people down there, tops. So now in 2007: I can't make any money from busking, I can't get hold of any smoke, and considering that my girlfriend is hundreds of miles away, the fact that the town is no longer a sausage fest, I'm getting randy as hell watching the scantily clad talent walking about with no outlet for my frustrations other than a box of Kleenex.

This summer is bullshit!