Why I am better than you

"I want to read your blog," my hairy friend said in the pub last night. Hairy Friend was, of course, not talking to me, but to the young raver, most likely because I had just been continually asking him when he was going to propose to his American girlfriend, and he wanted to divert the topic of conversation to something else. The young raver just happened to be opposite at the time and he seemed as likely a topic as any.

The young raver doesn't have a blog. It turns out that Hairy Friend (and Mane, and Robinson, and my sister and everyone else in our group) was referring to his abortive attempt to start a website, which only lasted as long as creating one page and then giving up. (That's nothing, mate - I've got eight. Websites, that is, not pages.) It apparently looked like the frontend to a blog, too, hence the taunt.

"Pshaw," I said to myself, very quietly. "What you want to be reading is my blog."

Because my blog is devastatingly witty and full of intelligent repartée. As an example, here is a picture which I found on the Internet, which is guaranteed to make you laugh out loud.

What a laugh, eh, guys?