By the time the weekend rolls around, I’ve pretty much had it with the nooze. The stories all seem to flow together into one big pool of stagnant mush.
Now I believe that if we didn’t have a solid good laugh on more than just a few occasions, we’d go barking mad. A good laugh is a gift from God. It preserves sanity. And it kicks Goliath in the shins.
But why am I sitting here jabbering about it? Byron the Quokka wants to get on with his TV listings…
