Flee, must Flee and Survive, before they have my scent.
Five hours from now I am leaving.
As soon as the lid closes on the Laptop, and I finish scrabbling for cables and jamming it into its case, I am fucking out of this flourescent light abbattoir.
I am leaving, fleeing, and deserting so Fuck you all, and have fun when I'm away.
I'm gone for the next few days to a land where there are no women, and worse weather.
Where the inhabitants speak with an accent I will not understand.
This is good, for those who I do not understand, will not arouse my wrath.
I have no choice but to leave, reality in this country has of late transformed into one endless unfunny episode of the "office".
To stay sane, I am taking Lucy, M and in a weird twist of fate am going to escape this endless drudgery and flee to the one place many spent years trying to escape, the Village.
You are number 37620.
This little number went to the Village,
This little number didn't stay home,
This little number had Lucy,
This little number had fun;
And this little number went Heee Heeee Heee! all the way home......
Here's to the weekend, Wales, Portmerrion and of course Z, without whom none of this insanity would be happening.
Call your attorney Z, we might need some sound legal advice after this one.
Be seeing you.
Peace and Hope