Planet Mad

Another morning, another bout of tiredness and woolly thinking. Having just re-read last night's ramblings, I would like to inform you that it *was* actually quite difficult to type, the one-eye bit is absolutely true, and it took a long time to get the letters to appear on the screen in the order that I wanted. As a result, my brain hurts. Mind you, the brain might be hurting because of the beer. Or the sesame prawn toast. But I'll blame it on the blogging, coz it sounds better. And because sesame prawn toast is above blame - I think there's a word for it, but I can't remember it, which is a tad worrying.

The James Bond of the Animal World has been in the Legion for the past 2 nights...he's a mean snooker player. Obviously not "mean" as in "pinches the opposition to make them cry" but "mean" as in "far better than me". Maybe this makes up for his dearth of spy gadgets, and after all, the lack of any sort of casino in Repton would leave any James Bond searching for some other way of spending his time and money, although I suspect that the 20p pieces absorbed by the snooker table are somewhat less valuable than casino chips.

Oh dear, this is turning into a steam of consciousness type post, which suggests that it's time for me to go, although it's suggesting this in the same way as a club's bouncer might suggest that it was time to leave. I'm off...