May 19th, 2006

sam working

rum, sodomy and lashings of ginger beer

Yesterday I tore the head off a rabbit. It was one of those days. A long, dark, cold, hard, horrid day and I'd been looking forward to Smallville all week, because it was the episode I'd so enjoyed in the UK ages ago, and I wanted to touch that again, but it just wasn't to be, as I was told I had to stay back late and do it, do it all, for no thanks and no money. And no Smallville. And as if to compound my misery, the two chattery girls behind me on the bus kept mentioning how they were missing Smallville (and not caring).

Sure, it's a show of slight consequence and I really shouldn't give a damn, but it was more the principal of the thing. All I wanted to do, my one treat, was an hour of tv, and it was denied. I felt abused.

So I crawled into bed, had a bit of a weep, tore the head off the dark chocolate rabbit I'd been saving for a rainy day, and watched the latter half of Hornblower.
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