Spent the weekend writing stuff for a wish-pitch and making a huge pot of pork curry. Don't know which was more futile, suppose at least i know something will come of the curry, if only arse-ache.

Spent some of friday with young Paul the Web and James the confused. Curiously, as neither of their ladies were present, they took up an inordinate amount of our conversation. And pizza.
Anyway, pleasant time, will have to make it more regular. Although the badgers get antsy when i'm out after dark.

My wandering Dutch friend has been in Brazil for a month where he once again has managed to impregnate a young lady. When I asked him if he'd heard of this new fangled contraception idea he brushed aside my advice with an airy "too fucking drunk..." Ah well, life. Still, he's been looking for a beach property for the two of us to retire to where we can have hot and cold running beer, women and by the sound of it, bastards.

Michael Jackson.

It amuses me to watch the Tory party in Britain squabble over which senile old twat will take over when the latest fiasco steps, or falls, aside. Too many people remember Maggie, and those who are too young would get bitch slapped by their parents if they swing to the right. and rightly so.

Ah well, Monday morning, my pool is bluer than a Tory back bench, the dogs are sleeping, including one on my desk which is a bit odd, God's in Heaven and all's fairly fucked up with the world.
C'est la vie as our pathetic French cousins would have it.