is that keef? keef is on the left, no, right, with that shaker thing. ooh, hang on, there’s another on the right, no, left. that must be mick. shaking like deranged weasels in a nefarious state of collapse in between the generous ranks and so on. that’s up to 5, even though I don’t have 1, for some reason. I mean, it works alright when that woman talks and the noise comes out, but when I’m upmixing I’m just surrounded, not punched in the face like on prince of wales road on a friday night after a session down lava and lagered into the wensum by a horny but hornless pleb.
yes, it is puzzling me, like life expectancy with a PSA score in the hundreds. what will that be like? without knowing how far the charts go and how far the thing goes we don’t know the treatment, but I’m erring on the side of 5 or less. and that’s positive. after I’ve rang the man about a £3,000 repair job on my victorian balustrade wall which a drunken halfwit hooded evil mumbling drudging fist-waving oik tried to use as a blunt instrument on a drunken halfwit hooded evil mumbling drudging fist-waving oik outside the kids bedroom window I’ll check up on my facts and then we’ll be waiting until the end of september when we can wave goodbye to the summer, get seasonally affectively disordered and curl up under the desk for 6 months.
if you don’t get hit by a bus or something first, that is. anything could happen couldn’t it? I mean, I could get decapitated by a sheet of glass that falls off the back of a lorry with a failing handbrake, or spontaneously combust or something. so we don’t really know when it’s coming do we? but knowing it is coming, that’s different.