Reasons to be cheerful, part 3.... (sorry Mr Dury).
I got some e-mail from an old friend... i haven't seen him for 28 years or so... what the fuck do we have in common? Then again what the fuck do i have in common with any fucker?

Paula Radcliffe is going to run the 10 000m today and she'll probably win, thereby changing her current UK status from Top Cunt to Golden Girl, again.

I have a client who won't answer the phone of 10 days then rings up and wants the work today, right now, how tempting the phrase "fuck off you sad ugly woman child" is.

I don't think anyone is coming to my braai... except Mental Laundry. This is the usual pre-match paranoia, but knowing that doesn't make it any better...saddo.

Monday Monday… life sure is a surprise. After 15 years my father has just e-mailed me. Where he got my address I don’t know although I suspect my pointless sister in Canada. And now he wants to open up a dialogue. What a cunt. Actually it's quite interesting to discover he is alive.

I've decided to have a house-warming party. I know it’s an error. But I’m a bit bored and need the distraction of 30 drunk bastards walking in my flowerbeds and fighting over which of my shitty CDs to play.
Actually I was going to have an intimate dinner/braai but I know my parties fuck enemabag off so it’s worth it for bastard value alone.

And Paula Radcliffe?
Didn’t it occur to her that it might have been a good idea to do some training actually in Greece? Good fucking God woman, now get back to the fucking kitchen.