…her name is Aphrodite and she rides a crimson shell….
Ahh! The familiar desk, the good old swivel seat, the same moonfaced incompetents milling about like radio controlled robots.
Good to be back.
“Why Ack, you’re, you’re crying!”
“Tears of joy, Dick, tears of joy.”
Some days ago now in these pages (it seems like years), I rather dismissively advised Fatmammycat to buckle down and work her way through the Depths of Monday Hell.
Big mistake. It is obvious to me now, that she immediately slit open a rooster, smeared herself with the hot spilled entrails (viscera) and by Voodoo or somesuch, returned the curse to me tenfold with brass knobs on.
A lesson learned.
Anyway because of my superb globetrotting remedial work, it’s now safe again to fly off to your favourite Christmas destinations.
I’m positive it is. Yes. No I’m quite sure. Yes I’m certain.
Avoid older MD80s
And on that subject there is apparently talk of making us all work till we’re 68 or something. Having been born in Glasgow, this means I shall be dead for a year when my pension comes through. Good job I’m embezzling as fast as I can, what foresight I have.
I also did not realise that everyone in this Great Britain of ours drank like fishes. I thought it was only we downtrodden Scotch and the poorer Northerners that drank, not a bit of it. The affluent Southerners have joined the national pastime with such enthusiasm as to be almost off-putting. The women are the worst, with their lack of suitable winter clothing, their smoking and their ribald antics, trying to outdo each other as “laddettes”. A single chap with oats to sow would find very little stony ground down there and no mistake. I of course with an important position to think of, made my excuses and managed to avoid any unpleasantness (skin contact) with the eager young hussies.
I hope I don’t regret it.
It will have to be MIDWEEK Roundup now. It will follow tomorrow.
Late Update: Wednesday is Addiction Day! always.