Well it's here, but my Cheltenham preparations have been spoiled somewhat after having a blazing row with Tony Blair this morning. Bitch thought he'd move my furniture around without asking me. "Good luck moving my bed on your own," I said to him, "there's sixty gallons of water in that mattress."
Those were my last words to him before my alarm went off and I had to get up. At least I got the last word in. Fuming I was. After I'd woken up I muttered to myself , "He's an even bigger fuckwit in real life than he seems on the telly," Quite serious I was too.
I'm laughing as I write this.
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