Y'know those stupid email jokes you get three or four times a day, the ones masquerading as humour, who writes those?
I've often pondered where they originate as I hunt in haste for the delete button.
So begins another missive on the life of Radge. I've kept schtum lately for technical reasons, I still haven't got the Interweb in the flat, so I write to you from my work desk of a lunch break, a Hot Italian Hoagie and half a bag of Hunky Dory's already consumed.
I've taken an inordinate like of dark chocolate. Dorte's chocolate fondue set may be to blame, or maybe it's my taste buds - they change every seven years, reportedly. I never thought I'd be talking about chocolate fondue sets, it's far from them I was reared, but that's just the kind of man I've become.
I also bring good news of work, got me a nice little job as Sportstel Editor. This won't mean much to most* of you, but rest assured I'm pleased.
What I'm not happy with is the current state of my bank balance, however. Spent the weekend in Westport for Ollie's birthday, and Jaysus but it proved pricey. Still, we managed to have the craic and will get around to posting pictures if I can figure out how to.
All that aside, lunch hour is up, so see ye.