Boring

Eeesh – dunno what’s going on here – I’m exercising like a bastard, not drinking, going to bed at 10 every night, and can I sleep? No I cannot. Maybe it’s because in the few moments I’m not Boring For Britain I’ve been playing too much Mercenaries which I have to say is wicked good. As I’m lying there tossing and turning little figures are gesticulating at me and jabbering something incomprehensible, and the bullets are pinging around me. But resistance is useless because I’m in a tank and I’m about to call down an air strike on you. How d’you like them apples, useless AI live in a computer person! Seriously this is a GREAT game, but the potential for staying up all night is very strong.

Aroma

Tip from the Panster, Godfather supreme, if you can smell the nappy from 2 rooms away nothing good therein lies. In fact something that could hold it’s head high in the company of pooh produced by the devil’s own satanic herd therein lies. In the ski world it would be red/black run (nice), maybe a mogul field (off-piste is for when the stuff’s escaping round the edges) so perhaps not the best ever introduction to nappy changing, especially as for reasons too complicated to go into I was pretty much on my own out there, but the Panster got there in the end . . . as indeed he should.

Drunk

If you give up drinking during the week despite pretty much a lifetime of non stop hedonism, by the time Friday comes around you are more than ready for a pint or 2. In fact, ready to the extent that all caution is thrown to the wind as pint after pint is consumed in what can really only be described as a bit of a lager frenzy. Result : realising you’re on a bus without your bag, phone or house keys, it’s 3.30 am and you have no idea where you are. Happy days!