He's still here and still drunk and still singing. I don't know if I can stand another chorus of Eskimo Nell. He's demanding marmite sandwiches and macaroni cheese(but not made with velveeta)Apparantly he feels safe under the porch as it's his earliest memory. So I've called the local temprance league, there going to come and bore him out.

By the way, I'm not Bat Goddess, but her secret santa, I just hope all this porch business doesn't effect the contents of Linns christmas box - a tape of a drunk singing bawdy songs?