Slacker returns in shock shoe shambles

I’m so sorry I’m late….

I was waiting ages for a bus, and then three came all at once (wouldn’t you know it?)…but then there was a stampede and I was trampled underfoot by stiletto shod data in-putters worried about premature curtailment of their temp contracts due to ‘punkchewallity ishoos.’

What a dire morning.

So, I had to return home to apply vinegar and brown paper to my gaping wounds...and then I got sucked into a TV documentary that Spouse was watching about the honey-voiced, Andrew Motion...whom I find rather arresting. So, I sat annoyingly on the edge of the sofa for some time, bleeding and spraying Jaffa cake crumbs all over the place. After about half an hour Spouse started doing his speaking clock thing. I can take a hint - I'm not completely insensitive.

Long sentence coming up, deep breaths everyone - can't be arsed to punctuate.

Unfortunately, that was one of a catalogue of medium-sized disaster/fuck ups that have been torturing the wits out of me and have led to my being separated for a whole month by some miles from any computer with an internet connection inserted into its rear.(No clever-dicks, we don't have wireless - where do you think this is? Basildon?) I was being held hostage – but I haven’t time to elaborate right now….let’s just say, the hospitality whilst hardly impeccable, could teach Travelodge a thing or two.

Yes, I know I've used the hostage excuse before, but on that occasion aliens were my jailers. These guys were different.The level of savagery was beyond anything I'd ever experienced before. They tortured me with Chris de Burgh music and broke wind in my face. The farts were easier to bear. But they told me that in the current economic climate, hostage taking was having to adapt to market forces. I thought I was probably worth more than a satsuma, a dried up Biro and a wheel of ripe Stilton - but I was happy just to be released. Everyone has their price - and it seems I'm quite cheap.

So, here I am now, prostrate before you. Begging forgiveness for my errant, neglectful ways…I am off now to flagellate myself with the whip of penitence…yes …you’ve guessed it….I’m going to watch a school concert. I will arrange upon my features the rictus smile known to all mothers on such occasions. And I will be poised to punch out the first person who says ‘ Who’s the weird kid facing the wrong way?’

Catch you later, my lovelies!

Fill up my comments box (ooer!) with all your news. I’m interested…no really…I am.
I AM. Stop it! I am.