I think it was during one of my periods of non-blogging that Niall actually managed to pull. Nikki (who has been discussed previously in this blog) agreed to be his one and only, forever and all time.

Two days later she dumped him. Niall has now been given the elbow by every woman over a size 18 in every fast food joint in Richmond. In fact, Nikki works at Burger King at Scotch Corner, so it seems he was having to branch out, the supply of Rubenesque burger flippers within the borough's boundaries already having been exhausted.

Now what are we going to do with him?

So, er, yeah - as I was saying.

I haven't updated for a month because I've been trying to minimize my typing. Around about the time I transcribed the last post (a rather funny Tennessee Williams gag - those who have yet to read it, scroll down) I also developed some symptoms of repetitive strain injury.

Of course, me being me, I immediately decided that this was the ruination of my career; deprived of my hands I wouldn't be able to write or play the piano. As those are the only two things I do remotely well, I concluded that I'd die the death of a slightly mature Chatterton, freezing in a garret, unrecognised and unloved.

That was bollocks. I just reduced the amount of typing I do, began to rely more on my handwriting recognition software and in general took it easy. The hand is now fine, and I've learnt a few tricks about staving off future bouts of RSI. So now everything is cool and rosy, and all I've got to think about is the huge fucking backlog of work and that fact that a load of Yankee bastards owe me £1500.