It’s ten-thirty in the morning. I got in at five. If I wasn’t so tired then the person who’s idea of a good Sunday is using power tools from eight-thirty would be collecting bits of themselves from around their garden. I am giving serious thought to getting up but I realise that this pillow is ridiculously soft. Someone get someone to bring me tea. Preferably a blonde nymphomaniac someone with very big tits.
That is all.