I have a new toaster, a present. Very shiny. Importantly it toasts 4 slices at a time and defrosts frozen bread, of course that's all a bit too much forward planning for me.
Anyway, it brightened my weekend.
My gardener is outside the window casually raping my begonias. He really is startlingly careless young Vlad, he especially enjoys mowing over bare soil, of which, due to his tender ministrations, there is a fair bit. Still, the dogs like him and the badgers get a good weekly trim with his hoe.

Speaking of hoes, young Dutch lad has taken to trying to find names for his latest prodigy. Ana, he thinks. I reckon, bastard, would be more accurate...

It's fathers day here in twatland. That day when mothers go out and buy crap presents supposedly from offspring who couldn't really give a flying fuck and give them to their partners who would much rather have a hooker, or at least a half decent blowjob, or an afternoon in the pub with their mates. Anything, except a pair of fucking socks, a new razor or a pair of driving gloves.

Vlad has just disappeared from view behind the elm trees, i can hear him delicately manhandling the mower over the garden tiles, throwing large chips of expensive ceramics up in the air.

God i fancy a drink, hmmm 9.05am... somewhere in the world it's time for a drink... and that somewhere is here. toodle-pip.