Your spunky Uncle.

Every day more news to fill me with Rage! Frictionless Man SMASH! Poor young women who are vulnerable and ignored are murdered in Ipswich to the delight of a salacious media who can’t help but revel in the fact that they are prostitutes. Not just report it, but revel in it, like a dog in cow shit. Kill two prostitutes and you also qualify as a Ripper. Ripper, mate!

Then the thrice damned government pressure the Serious Fraud Office to call off a criminal investigation into the affairs of BAE and the Saudis. That’s not supposed to happen, that’s wrong that is. National Security? I do not believe it for a second. We’ve got a snowball’s chance of a handcart to hell, to borrow a mixed metaphor. I’m moving to Ceres, which is a dwarf planet not an asteroid, and I’m going to catch comets in a net and use them to create intelligent life. That or I am going to stop reading the news because it just makes me feel so doomed. FRICTIONLESS MAN DOOMED!

Apparently the Portuguese government is a coalition between two parties, one far left and one far right. The two leaders of the respective parties are in fact brothers. Twin brothers. They must have some fun come conference time.

“We must tax the highest earners and redistribute the wealth.”

“Waaaaa?”

And so forth.

We had a power cut on Friday night. Rhys had made us some sangria, of all things, and we were just about to tuck in when all the lights on the street went out and all the lights in the houses on the street went out to boot. We retreated to the dining room and sat around a candle. Some people faced with this situation would make small talk or tell ghost stories or complain about the government. We tried to play our wine glasses and when, after quarter of an hour of squeaking and rumbling noises led us to the conclusion that we were not going to conjure any ethereal music from them we decided to hum and whistle at the same time. It’s a bit tricky but with practice you can make a really irritating noise. If this means the art of conversation is dead, then long may it remain so. Who needs words?

Balp spung.

I need words. Falve gooclet. I need words like durrnt and wonsonomonomonon.

Christmas is nearly here. Shits to it.