So, here it is: yet another Dress-up-as-a-Marsupial Friday. It is like the last one, except that it isn't. But who am I to turn this into another String Contemplation Moment, especially when all the laminated zebras have been allocated to the itinerant wandering economists as they stroll the streets singing their songs and ballads of quantitative easing..
Still, it makes no difference. It changes nothing... not even your socks.
There are no adjustable spanners left in the salad drawer, and the social worker detection device is no longer working to its full capacity. I warned you that we would end up with solo yachtsmen infesting the wainscoting, but would you listen?
Still, there is always, always the cheese!
It could be worse....
It could involve those day-glo purple helicopters your mother warned you about - again.
Yet you still stand there, naked and holding your umbrella in a provocative manner. It is just the sort of thing that gets you a reputation as one of the more interesting Tax Inspectors.
These are my Spanish hamsters and there are no Austrian badgers in the playground any more.
Do not laugh at the elephant, she is very shy.
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