I fixed the wheel. I had grease on my hands. Sure it wasn't my tool but that slack jawed friend of ours didn't know how to handle a tool of that size so me and my dad did all the tool administering.

I can't believe you brush over the one moment of real working class decent labour your brain-heavy meeting-laden husband will probably ever do!

Now I have to stop publicly reprimanding you and go ring a man about sweeping the floor in the kitchen. I don't know how to fix the dust.

Glad to have you back neuro.

So was that your (now repaired) hot whip on blocks - well, one block for the missing wheel - at Zoomy's ol' crib during the week?

If so, I'm very disappointed.

I thought my estate had finally slumped to ghetto standards and that I could begin looking forward to some real tasty (Dublin) westside r&b :(

Stig, honey, let's be frank for a moment here (you wear his hairpiece, I'll wear his tie). Your housing estate has always been a ghetto.

Word.

i had a hamster called frank.

Such a bold claim would require photgraphic, nay, video, proof.

SHOW ME THE HAMSTER

Unfortunately I have no pictures of Frank. He is now an ex-hamster and is slowly decomposing in the back garden.

But just to give you an idea, he looked kind of like this:

http://www.members.aol.com/badzombienight/EvilHamster.jpg

-sigh-

How I miss Frank.

Only a desperately maltreated hamster could look so distressed.

I can't even begin to document my disappointment with you bonzo.