Dang, just had a six hour defrag, as this useless crate crashed. I dunno, you play a tune on jOhn's Fender, and before you know it, you're co-piloting Brian on a 979.

Eric, BTW is on his cycling hols in Holland; I waved him goodbye from the south bank.

I'm off round to No.21 South Ferriby now, to comfort Mrs Drinkall. The climactic screams usually drive Oakley to the pub, but he's probably already there, subtly detaining 'lodger' Frank, whilst I instruct Nozzer and Mrs D how to attain greater enjoyment through tantric sex, through the vogue keep-fit craze of striptease aerobics. She will keep calling it a basque, but a corset's a corset!

Gary