Afraid to say my tour of the patch this morning produced absolutely nothing that it would be worth my while writing down and your while reading. Thanks to a not-so anonymous tip-off, I was put onto another classic CD hanging in the allotments to scare the birds... well it scared me. The Strictly Ballroom 'Shall we dance?' soundtrack, in Association with The Sun. Nice. Mind, i can hardly talk. Got me thinking about CDs in my collection that would be put to better use keeping Bullfinches off the cherry trees. Things like 'Cinderella Live at the KeyClub' and Electric Boys - Freewheelin' and, indeed, my back catalogue of Musical Youth.

So I'll leave you with this for today, sorry, because it tickled me enormously at 12.30 am last night when, thanks to the restorative properties of hard drink, the world seemed a warmer place. You can guess where it's from.

He twisted round in his seat.
'Are you sure she's all right?' he said again.
Beyond the fact that she was heart-thumpingly beautiful, he could make out very little, how tall she was, how old she was, the exact shading of her hair. And nor could he ask jer anything about herself because, sadly, she was completely unconscious.
'She's just drugged, ' said her brother, shrugging, not moving his eyes from the road ahead.
'And that's all right is it?' said Arthur, in alarm.
'Suits me,' he said.
'Ah,' said Arthur. 'Er,' he added after a moment's thought.
The conversation so far had been going astoundingly badly.

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