Voicey croaky continuey. Croak croak. I am not a frog. I may or may not be a salamander. They croak too, don’t they? Scaramanga, salamander: only one of them tried to assassinate James Bond but it didn’t have a re-growable tail. Unless Christopher Lee was part lizardman.
I got things done today. Oh don’t worry, nothing of any genuine import or of concern to the rest of the universe, just stuff. You know, stuff, chores, chitterchat, wibbling about and such nonsense. Oh and some eating but possibly not quite enough eating to get me through to the end of the day. Unless I snuff it before the end of the day in which case I have ingested all the sustenance I require.
I’ve just asked Nostradamus. I don’t think I’m going to snuff it before the end of the day but it’s hard to tell with him. I once asked him what he wanted from the corner shop and he wrote me a two hundred page note in blank verse which almost but not quite entirely failed to make it clear whether he wanted a fucking Cornetto or not.
Simon Pegg movie anyone? They’re better when he’s not pretending to be Scottish. Actually that’s not strictly true. The first two in which he pretended to be Scottish were great apart from the inconsistency of his Scottish accent. The most recent film in which he pretended to be Scottish was, unlike the previous two, also co-written by him and reeked both of him over-reaching himself and of wanting to write his character some sexy and heroic scenes.
Oh sorry, have I utterly wasted your time with this post. Yeah. I do that sometimes.