me: So. I'm buying some painkillers at the supermarket, when the guy at the checkout says: 'are you over 16? you are, aren't you?'

J: JW goes shopping. JW: "Can I have some aspirin please?"
Bloke: "Eh?"
JW: "Can I have some aspirin please?"
Bloke: "Eh?"
JW: "Can I have some aspirin please?"
Bloke: "Eh?"
JW: "Can I have some aspirin please?"
Bloke: "Aspirin? Yeah."

On the way to the library:

1. I overhear a woman on her mobile saying: "She's just arrived in Cornwall."
2. A woman approaches me and asks for directions to Cornwall Street.
3. I avoid being on the receiving end of a huge amount of bird shit by mere inches. The bird was a seagull - it could have flown in from CORNWALL.

Are you watching The Apprentice? I hope you're watching The Apprentice, because last night's show was hilarious but not anecdotally translatable.

me: I remember walking to the library on a sunny morning, this office person was walking ahead past that space between the museum and town hall. He couldn't decide, hold the suit jacket in his hand or over his shoulder? It was funny because he was this short office person, I dunno but it was funny, especially when your hear this SPLAT! And he got showered in seagull shit. I always walked the Eden Place route after that.

J: That's weird, that's exactly where I nearly got zapped. Did you know: bird shit is so runny because birds shit and piss simultaneously? All of which reminds me of the traditional English joke: what do you do if a bird shits on your car windscreen? Don't ask her on a second date.

Anyway, it's Easter apparently. On this day, something like 1000 years BC, Jesus Christ was born, and he begat Abraham, and verily he begat Joshua (I'm winging it a bit here), and the burning bush spake unto Judas in the Garden of Gesthemane and sayeth unto him: mmm, Cadbury's creme eggs, innit, and furthermore it addeth: have Friday off. And verily I shall.

me: Didn't I ever tell you how I called that route to and from the library the 'bird poo run'? Well. You know now. There's these offices along the Smallbrook Queensway, and they've got this kind of roof shelter thing on the front so you can walk under it when it rains. Anyway. Years of pigeons sitting on the edge of it had left a long line of bird shit on the path below. I used to call it the 'line of fire'.

J: I'm not sure, but I think that that email should probably be shown upon your weblog.

me: I'll blog it when I get my laptop back off my sister (did you watch Families At War? You pinched my fucking drill, where's my fucking drill, eh?). But for now I might blog your take on Easter. And face it. You're a blogger by proxy, or something.

J: I'm not that up on religion, but I think I got most of the main details right.

I recorded Families at War. Though of course, nobody who already has a family would need to watch it.

Anyway, I recommend blogging by proxy. It takes away the editorial pressure.

me: Hey. Forget Families at War. Watch Blame The Parents on BBC 2, 9pm. One of the dads hits his wife on TV.

J: Eeeeee, I wouldn't mind one of these...