Not a great picture, but it was so far up in the trees. It spoke, well, it made its chattering, squeaky eagle noise, and I looked up and there it was. I see that the moron Clarkson (whose name I couldn't remember until now, presumably because I had repressed it) has shot his stupid mouth off again, this time about the Prime Minister. Why don't they put that fuckwit down? (Clarkson of course, not the PM.)
I'm enjoying an evening of slug-like behaviour. Not, as you might think, chomping up forest debris and pooping it out as compost, but rather...well, doing nothing. Last night a meeting, tomorrow night, an event thing, tonight - slug-night.
Luverly.
2 comments:
Clarkson, Thatcher, Ross.....
It's all going fucking tits up here mate.
I'm at the point now where I'm not sure if I'm watching 'V For Vendetta' or living it.
But whilst you still have Helen Mirren and Miriam Margolyes, the ravens haven't yet left the tower and there is still hope.
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