Area 136

One - a man with a face exactly like Charles Laughtons version of Quasimodo.

Two - a "person" with a face like a bloke and a platinum blond wig on, sporting a huge pair of silicon tits which were "decorated" with splashes of liquid that sparkeled in the light (ahem) adjusting their blouse to show off these plastic delights in a more "pleasing"? fashion.

Well, that's lunchtime in London for ya!

After the blazing heat of Birmingham, I have to say London seems chuffin' FREEZING today!

"The blazing heat of Birmingham"

Now there is a phrase I never thought I would ever use!

So this is being done on word for whenever the bloody connection comes back. Although I am not holding out much hope as I suspect the rapid dismantling of the office infrastructure that has been going on since last week may mean that some well intentioned chap in blue overalls has pulled out the wrong cables.

So anywhat, good morning.

Hope the world is sunny from a metaphysical point of view if not a literal one wherever you find yourself this morning, and no one has urinated on your pomme frites.

Had a good weekend myself, and will post pictures tonight as promised once the wife has finished with me, or maybe before. Make her wait even longer, bastard that I am.

As the server is down and no one can do any work or even pretend to, the talk amongst the males in the office is now of football. Many strange words are being spoken and foreign names mentioned or spat out, depending on the level of regard the person is held in. It is a totally different world. One I have never had an urge to be included in.

You can tell I’m bored can’t you. God knows when this is going to appear on the blog but when it does it will obviously mean the server is back. And I may well trim this wandering goat track of a post down so you don’t all die of boredom.

I could tell you more about Birmingham. Well. Juzzzy – he is a little concerned, as you all know, about his impending plunge to an early death/ parachute jump. Having seen the Jpegs stature I can tell you all and him, that he will drift down slowly like a feather, as there really is not enough of him for gravity to get a good hold of! EAT SOME FOOD!

We all had a bit of a freak out when looking at the pictures I took in the club. It all went a bit Scooby Doo in the corner as we huddled around my camera going “Yikes!” and “Jiminy Jillickers!” and even “Wraggy!” as in one of the shots there appeared to be a disembodied glowing skull floating across the dance floor that no one had seen.

In the rancid and very smelly male toilet of Snobs nightclub, there was actually a little man by the sinks trying to sell you that squirty smelly stuff and give you some hand towels. He even had his little bowl for tips! Well he could fuck right off! So out of place in a dive like that – what where they thinking?

Abi was her usual charming self and had all the men in the takeaway wrapped round her little finger with her coy questions about the nature of the (to her) exotic foodstuffs for sale. Ahem.

Abi was even giving Virgin blog dance lessons! I would love to tell you that she turned him instantly into Fred Astaire in true Hollywood Style, but I would be lying. And that is just so unlike me. Row the boat obviously does not need dancing lessons. Not that I was looking. Mrs F did attempt to get me to dance but I don’t think me wriggling against her bum while she danced with Ships cook really counts. More like sexual harassment actually, and more up my street.

Any how, gotta go answer the phones and stuff now as all is working again.

Speak at you later.