My t-shirt's filthy. Just noticed as my eyes wandered down to where my fingers were doing the typing on our Anne's keyboard. Filthy. Must change it before I go into town.
Meeting Denise and Lynn tonight, you see, and can't be seen to be letting the standards slip.
Congratulations at this point go to Ms Greene and Mr Andrew Conaghy. Engaged! My word. Couldn't smile wide enough when I heard the news. There'll be talk of wedding bands and dresses aplenty tonight but it's a small price to pay.
Andrew, if you're reading this, get your ass into town and save me.
There are rumours of snow. Honest to God. Wintry front or something.
How come on the telly, when someone picks up a phone they manage to hear how "Sonny's in the hospital with a broken leg after hitting a horse who'd escaped the stable down on Emmerdale Farm" quicker than you or I could say, "Well, what's the story?"???
It's fuckin' ridiculous. Take a pause. Jesus!
Divil a plan I have for the weekend, work aside. Might keep it that way*.
5X on 'Last Of The Summer Wine': "I can't watch the ones with the new Compo."
Dylan Moran is a very funny man.
Afternoon television is tat.
Thanks to Julianne for a stellar meal on Tuesday night. Steak. Top notch.