Apparently boffins are planning to destroy the Earth next week in a search for winos and that. Bit of wasted effort, innit? They could have visited any city centre in Scotchland on a Saturday night. Not that they really expect to find anything without a Unified Field Theory to properly tie together gravity and quantum physics.
Be that as it may, if I stay at rest much longer, I won't get my blog up to date before we're all killed to death by an artificial black hole. I'd hate to arrive at FSM Heaven with that on my conscience, I wouldn't enjoy the beer volcano or the strippers.
Favourite Niece slapped her doctor's face after he told her she had a serious heart problem. His exact words? "You have acute angina." Did I mention she also suffers from partial deafness? (btw, he was wrong.)
My notes are getting ridiculously abstruse. One here simply says "wasps PETA". As if anyone could find it objectionable to kill wasps. Oh. Wrong again. FFS.
"My lover's got no money, he got his trampolines."
Damn, should have left that till Friday. Meh.
Jack Spratt could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean. They were vegetarians.
Oh, hurrah! Little Miss Farty's former abode is to be demolished on September 21. Assuming the world hasn't ended by then, of course. I'd better go and join the protest, I wouldn't want to miss that big bang.
Toot toot!
