Point of order

When Blogger had a fit over my first attempt to reflect on my languid desire to strangle certain of my colleagues (oh, scroll down; there's a post I put together earlier today - a second attempt at the subject) I had in mind a jaunty subsidiary musing on something severely weird I had done earlier in the day.

All this abortive posting was done morning after the previous evening wherein I'd gracefully swan-dived off the wagon. Somewhat to my surprise I've clambered back on board and got my footing again. Which possibly explains why now, after a couple of solid days off the piss I can remember what I was thinking.

That morning I filed my toe nails for the first time in my life. I was sitting down to file my finger nails and through my hands I saw my toes; before I properly knew what I was doing I'd adopted a quasi-yoga position and started work on my toe nails.

Deeply peculiar behaviour. I need to do something about this before I find myself spending money on nail varnish and getting about with purple patches at the end of my feet.

Oh dear.

Darryl Dickless

Darryl deserves a mention. Just one. Darryl's great claim to fame is not his colossal intelligence (he did really, really well in mathematics and physics). It is this horrid little oik's perpetual dick anxiety. At nineteen he hasn't yet learned that there's no great chance his toy will either drop off or vanish; hence the need to reassure himself by giving the contents of his boxers a regular and frequent check - to confirm that everything is still present and correct.

Marvellous to see a young man so lacking inhibitions. However there's this nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that when he's learned how to use his toy he's going to be downright dangerous.