I think we're being bombarded by weird cosmic rays. Or it's just me.
I'm watching two doves going at it while balancing on top of the fence. (jealous. much. on top of a fence.)
The letterbox has cockroaches again, brown ones though, Aussie. The CIA has taken theirs home.
The Rodent is having a birthday. He's ONLY 67. Are they sure about that?
I mean he's been around since the Andes were a footstep.
How dare he have a birthday in my birthday month anyway.
Phillip Ruddick (I know how to spell) wants to censor Television and books, specifically Big Brother and Islamic 'How to bomb yourself to heaven' books. I can't make out which one he thinks is terrorism.
I am officially getting old. I admit it. I used to be able to flip a queen-size mattress with one hand. This morning it took me an hour, a lot a swearing and a seismic event when I finally let it drop.
Are you sure the batsard (I know how to spell) is only 67?
In 33 years he'll be one hundred years old. He'll still be here, I just know it. I bet Captain Smirk does too.
The Jenolan Caves are 340 million years old. I bet he started them off by digging in his sandpit.
Happy Birthday, your gnomeship.
7 comments:
There are three wishes I'd like to make for John:
1. that he eventually finds the meaning of the word 'truthfulness'.
2. that someone pricks his enormous ego-bubble.
3. That he and George become involved in a nasty divorce before Australia ceases to exist as a sovereign country.
I know, it took me ages to turn my ordinary double mattress last time - I nearly killed myself.
I'd turn my mattress, but my three dogs like it the way it is.
It doesn't help that many of the new mattresses (including the expensive ones) no longer have handles on them!
I have a backache for days after turning my mattress.
Daniel, in his own words, 'never going to happen' but he has an election before George this time and he may be out.
As for the mattress, it's everything I have to think of before I start. Make sure the fairy lights on the bedhead are over the back so they don't get wiped out and watch the chandelier so it doesn't get hit, move the phone, shift the books and see the cat's not anywhere near. I need servants, I was born to have servants.
Thanks to you, I just turned the mattress.
Now my dreamcatcher is arse-about on the windowsill, books are spread over the floor, my alarm clock is ... actually I haven't found it yet, nor my dogs.
Mattress is dangerous, destructive and disruptive.
Ron,I can see that you and I come from the same class of upper-crustness. We can do these things because we are superior but we'd prefer the servants to do them for us.
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