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.

HUR HUR 

Bugger.
For the last four mornings I've got out of bed at 4am and just sort of hung around the rather nippy lounge in the house. I've taken to working on the laptop. So by the time most earthlings troll into their saddo offices I've been working around five hours.
This is very tiring, but what to do? Sleep she avoids me like honesty in the South African political system...
Things are occurring in the world.
Young Simon in Cornwall, or Devon, is hosting a naked rave for 70 thugs with assorted drugs and nubiles.
DJ is coming out of the cupboard where he's been for two years, although i only have 5 lines of email to prove this so far.
The mad Dutchman in Germany keeps getting promoted, indeed the more he struggles the worse it gets, i'm sure there's a motto in there somewhere.
Mark & Chisel are moving from London into Suffolk to pamper their children with goats, boats and moats.
Younger Brother's mad bastard wife has given birth to a child named Dominic Bede... i refuse to comment.
Nearer home myself, my ex, her boyfriend, and his ex have formed a kind of Jerry Springer group, it's all very odd and makes me want to sit down occassionally.
Young Paul hates his job. Oddly this is far more common than one would have thought.
We must find a way forward.
Mickey J is going to do a tv series about the tragedy of his trial, poor bairn. Hang on, isn't this how he got into the shite in the first place, if you'll excuse the rather graphic metaphor.

I have to go now, I've been trying to use Picaso or whatever to upload pics to my blog. it's very very very frustrating. And the badgers are antsy, again.

mmm 

haha 

hhhhh 

Since I heard the news in the middle of the night I've been wondering how to comment upon this startling revelation.
I can't remember a more significant moment for quite some time, it's been a long time coming, and the result was by no means certain, although I had suspected something might come of it soon.
But can you fucking believe it? England beat Australia in 20/20 cricket. Beat? Nay, thrashed. hahaha.

Oh and Mickey J got off as well.

But I'd already predicted that.
Now, be clever Mickey. Get on your big plane, empty your bank accounts into large foreign demoninations and head for the hills.
I recommend France, they're a nation of child-fondling, pathetic creatures and they can turn their hand to making a fair bottle or two of Jesus Juice.
Anyway, good luck to you Mickey, God only knows what would have happened if you'd gone to prison...

And, I hear a rumour that Jacob Zuma has been sacked, if this is true it leaves him open for prosecution, something that will never happen in our free and equal society.

That horse-thumping lesbian is back, she sure likes to wack those beasts with her long leather crop...hmmm.

I can't decide whether to shave or not. I have a big important meeting this afternoon but can't make this heavy decision. The scruffy, rebellious creative type, or the suited business guy... life has so many choices.

Last night the badgers were howling in the wind, they had finished all the lime jelly and seemed to take offence when I offered raspberry & quince in its place. Fussy little beggars, still I know they'll be happy about Mickey J they do love to serenade the neighbourhood with their own unique medley of his greatest hits while performing their famous, "cod-slapping" dance. (Although they have had to exchange the cod for Hake because of shortages).

"Hey Mickey...hey Mickey..."