The ant.

       Thursdays are pretty bad, this last one has been a real jerk off, what with Wednesday and then damn me Friday. It really is enough to make an ant elope. You can smile all you want but sooner or later it will catch up on you and when that happens well 'woe betide you'.

       If you are smiling I think you should get back to earth as quick as you can, I can understand why you do not want to get your feet back on the ground, it surely is not such a splendid place, but the rate the graveyards are filling up you need to be here early or you may lose your place.

      Digby Foxton's body was never recovered after that dreadful business with the ferry so maybe Enid, Digby's wife, will let you be beside her in the hereafter. Bloomfield's have sold out of white calla lilies so you had best delay your demise a few weeks. Oh and don't worry about Tibby, I am almost certain that Jillion will take her in.

      Herbert Longstaff has left his wife, he left her on the No. 93 bus. He was quite relieved when they told him that they were unable to trace her, and I will say this for Herb he knows how to throw a dam good knees-up. What with traditional Dona Kebabs and brown ale the event was almost as good as a wake. He's sure he won't live long enough to pay the bill so it's a win win situation.

      Well anyway we did survive Thursday, I reckon we are not over the worst, the weather forecast is good which means there will be a disgusting amount of knees on display, it really is sick the way people assume you want to see their knees. Living in the north the native knees are a particularly revolting shade of light grey very similar to a used table tennis ball. It is all in such terribly bad taste.

       I have written to my MP. about it but his interpreter is on holiday so I expect he has yet to get the message.