The Worm Flails, Gurgles & Drowns In Its Own Juices

It's now so cold and generally damp in the worm that I have seriously thought about returning to a state of mouldy hibernation, but then I would have missed out on these highlights of an elbow straightening week:
1. Calling the hotline to Scotland in order to hold back the torrent of incoherent drunkenness of the local chavlets, then going out and achieving a higher level of spiritual drunkenness to rub their yellow tongues in!
2. Holding a real life baby. They made me hold a baby! Waaaah waaaaah waaaaah!
3. No tasty fishy treats, no ukulele and no Larmer Tree Festival. But on the bright side I managed to miss the non event that was the Ringwood Festival, which has apparently managed to exist ten years without anyone noticing.
4. Crying over spilt Nicky.
5. Frequenting the friendly neighbourhood Harry Potter party, with some orange cider-addled freaks in wigs, as the insipid rat face watches on in shame.
Roll on Summer (I think the next one's due in about 50 years)!


Currently listening: Twilight Of The Innocents by Ash