Thursday

10:40 p.m.
The recorded delivery occurred early doors, so I could have my luncho and fall asleep on the couch, then go to the diggings. I hate everything now. The usual humiliations occurred. Dig, dig, dig. Silence. You can't even hear the birds sing. I have not found one worm in the half diggings of one side of the allotment. Not one living creature in the dug to death ground. I started planting ... some second earlies. Estima. This means you can get some wee tatties out of the ground from July through to September when you should get the main crop. Maris Piper and some other death begotten thing.

I was only digging for about an hour. Destroyed, I was, as usual. Also, after four or five days spitting in the face of the Nicotine Dragon, suddenly I was dead crabbit. I want to stab the basturns through the eyes. I want some decent drugs. I want a proper jobbie where I can spend the weekend spending money on some decent drugs, stabbing the basturns through the eyes ... and conversation. The basturns are so ossified they can't hold a decent conversation anymore. Just a lot of moi, moi,moi.

It'd like to become a criminal, except I can't be arsed.

What about ra bliss, Hotboy? Fung ra bliss, Jack! The one thing the evil bourgeois have going for them is their stupidity. We could do with some more of that around here!

Also speaking to a funny person. One who could talk to you and be amusing. Also,with a large bosom!