Well that's the last time I plan anything, I can't even get a snooze right! I haven't slept a wink (idiotic phrase that "40 winks" - far from sleeping you will just look like you have a really really bad tic). I did however make it out to the living room where I tried to bore myself with the kind of televisual tripe that resides on freeview boxes (I like to call it pauper-view; it aspires to be -pay-per-view, but it's skint). My slightly sore and befuddled eyes have begrudgingly consumed an old episode of "Have I got news for you?" (clearly not, this is very very old - it had Keith Chegwin on it - post alcoholism and getting his wanger out on a gameshow), something with Jeremy Clarkson on it (I caught the last 4.8 minutes of a programme where he apparently fell in love with Europe - I didn't care for it), Come Dine With Me (always brilliant in an entirely pointless and slightly socially retarded way) and a programme about mother in laws, where one of them called her daughter in law a fat c**t. Fantastic.
What is nice though is that I have my flat to myself for the evening. It is as quiet as a mouse listening for a pin drop in a library. All I can hear are my industrious fingers dancing like ten flabby Michael Flatleys (well, just ten Michael Flatleys) over the keyboard communicating with I don't know who. It is quite liberating this blogging lark. This may not be quite the fad I believed it would be when I started this earlier today...
Now then, do I watch a Blackadder DVD, have a nose around youtube and the like or try again for that elusive snooze? It is decisions like these that would frighten presidents, CEOs and other industrial and political leaders. Not me though. I can handle it.
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