Ya mums got big hands and shops at aldi

Hello children, again you find your valiant narrator manning his station, 7 floors up on the charing cross road and never a job at the top of them.

Today is indeed a sombre one, with news reaching this outpost of the most maccabe form, a time of self-reflection seems to be in order. However looking within has never been a strong character trait of this protagonist so therefore a skinfull and some flapjack will be the preferred tools of cleansing.

Last night was indeed an event cut from the same linen as most standard fit student jeans, well on the surface anyway, but mistakenly laughing OUT loud at a lush falling on her arse would appear to have been a highlight, if not for the fact that she was actually having an seizure of sorts. So with tails very much between legs we closed open mouths and returned to the act of dance.

As the social rumbled on, copious amounts of lager beer washed away the boredom a treat and made the overall evaluation much more favourable, the dancing was, as always clinical with diddy getting a reet good runout. There was rumblings of a round of pull the curtain, but this particular example was just a touch too floral for the general consensus. Romance did indeed blosom between two members of the far removed party and a distant colleague looked to be laying the foundations for a subsequent night of carnal funness. But alas the freedom afforded with mickey not in attendence ironically made your faultless hero quite insular. Thoughts of like, infatuation, lust, ran through his gallant bonce but all were diminished and dismissed as another quart of Beck's collided with stomach acid.

So with the promises of a bastard behind the eyes laying ahead your favourite tricky trio made good for home. Obviously a road sign was liberated and some other artefacts were accumulated to pay hommage to the missing group member. However plans to construct a shrine of doors, mattresses, cones and a desk chair with FULL SWIVEL capabilities were thwarted by that harlequin who doubles as night security. After a torrent of incoherent poetry he retired back to his dwellings or so we thought. The sneaky so and so witnessed the counter-strike operation to re-steal the aforementioned goodies and followed the trio back to the batcave, where a fiduciary warning was met with general disdain and apathy. After failing to instill ' the fear' among the trinity he buggered off. The last act was to repeatedly watch what has been officially recognised as the most humourous of all film sequencies, 'Oh we have a volunteer...'

A potentially difficult evening for your conscientious narrator turned into one of almost stooge like farce and helped delay any untoward sadness for the time being.

Time is great for grief, but so is lash and lash is much faster ;)

Dedicated to the grandest of old birds ... 1928 - 2009