I'm a blogger and I live in London, me
I feel compelled by jealousy of other London bloggers, and the awful feeling that I may be simply a blogger in London, to mention the tube strike.
That's all I can do, though. Mention it. I walk to work. Didn't make a rat's fart of difference to me.
It ... erm ... it made me wary of driving down the M4 tonight, but so did not having had more than an hour's sleep, and the fact that windows kept rippling.
So - no. The London tube strike didn't affect me at all. Get off your fat rich twentysomething arses and get to work the old fashioned way, you London bloggers, you. And stop whingeing.
Oh fuck, they'll never anoint me a London blogger, now, will they?
Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: Creepy Lesbo
"But what's the point in regretting things?
Where does it get you?
I've written WorkshopLeader an email.
And I sent it yesterday.
And it was harsh but less offensive and accusatory than it could have been.
And now I have to face the consequences.
So I should storm into the front room and turn on all the lights and plug the phones back in and prepare for the inevitable onslaught.
Face it like a hero, right?
So why am I still sitting here?