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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

My friend, referred to in an earlier post as an "ignorant twat", rang me today after watching a repeat of Angel on Sky One, firstly apologising for constantly texting me since Monday the words "Angel is dead". Once he had stopped weeping at the beauty of it all, we discussed the virtues of Angel for about half an hour until he agreed that it was indeed a great television show, that it's shocking that it's been cancelled, and that the smug announcement lady on Sky One needs to stop using the phrase "last ever series of Angel" before every trailor because I will be forced to come over there and bitch slap her to within an inch of her life. And, for his benefit, I'd just like to illustrate the difference between first season Wesley and fourth season Wesley.

So, out of respect for that person, I will not reveal the fact that in the 14th episode of 24, Kiefer shoots Nina dead, and Michelle is exposed to the virus (highlight it if you're interested). Oops. There I go again with my spoilers.

I've spent all day trying to catch up with my reading for my psychology essay on "theory of mind", which needs to be finished by Friday since I'm going to London next week. But I'm not doing too well. Things keep coming up. Dogs, cats, phone calls, sisters, walls to stare it - it's all go.

Long overdue update of Mouse News:
There have been no mouse captures and no mouse sightings since our return from Tipperary on Friday, so the final mouse tally for the traps under the sink stand at 10 dead mice, now all gone in the Great Rubbish Truck to their Final Resting Place of the dump in Sandyford. There is talk of moving the traps up to the attic, where the mice can still be heard rustling around at night, and I'm convinced that there are mice in the computer room here - in fact, I thought I heard one mooching around under this desk - but the traps of doom have not yet been relocated.