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Bloody Minded. One day. Just one more day and I'm on holiday for 17 glorious days... thank god. It's not that work's particularly taxing (well, it's not actually taxing at all), just that, you know, my brain needs a holiday from the lack of use it gets there. Even teens getting butchered on TV doesn't appeal to the lowest common denominator part of my brain these days. Bloody hell - MPs are a bit severe these days - a poor suicidal man slashes his wrists in front of Malcolm Rifkind's staff and, instead of being led away by sympathetic health professionals, the tragic bastard is convicted of "criminal damage". Supposedly, blood stains are hard to get out of lino. Ho-hum. Dave xx
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