There was a fish... IN the perculator...

What a fab day!

• Arrival of boudoir apparatus
• Arrival of damn fine DVD
• A plaice in the sun for lunch
• Haircut by foxy follicle femme

Days off are great!

Apart from having to tidy up!

Another of life's great mysteries is how does polystyrene get just about everywhere, even when it's been nowhere near where you find it. And no matter how much you hoover it up, there's always more, clinging to your T-Shirt, or clambering up the hoover stem. It's like your body has a gravitational field that only attracts polystyrene (literally, in my case, for it certainly don't attract 'the birds')!

So there's polystyrene balls on your sleeve - try and brush 'em off, they stick on your hand. Shake hand over bin - won't come off. Slide hand over the rim of the bin,  hoping the polystyrene sticks to the Osama* - like arse it does! What happens is the polystyrene in the bin leaps onto your hand and sleeves.

So you end up hoovering yourself (ensuring flies fully zipped, as you don't want to end up in the N&N on Bizzarre ER, trying to convince the nurses that you were trying to hoover polystyrene balls, not performing an act of hoovery lurve upon oneself and getting stuck in the pipe).

And when you're all done and the hoover packed away... you see another white clustering of foamy balls... and another... and you look at your sleeve...

Aaarrrggh!

* BIN LADEN LINER... NO? WELL, PLEASE YERSELF THEN! OH WELL, AT LEAST IF HE TRIES TO SUICIDE BOMB ME FOR HIS LACK OF THE SEVENTH SENSE**, THE RESULTING SWARM OF POLYSTRENE BALLS WILL FLOW OVER HIS BEARDY MUSH AND SUFFOCATE HIM  TO DEATH. AND SERVE HIM RIGHT TOO!

** MUCH IS MADE OF THE SIX SENSES, BUT EVERYONE KNOWS THERE'S SEVEN:

1. LECHING AND OGLING
2. GOSSIPMONGERING
3. STENCH
4. TRUNKY WANNA BUN
5. FONDLEMENT
6. SEEING DEAD FOLKS
7. A SENSE OF HUMOUR