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*Pops head in the door and sees MW74 a quivering wreck in the corner of the room*

*Sympathises, knows that MW74 is off the sauce and had a bad day at the office

*straps on a battered Martin acoustic instead"

*Starts strumming an old tune that we can empathise with"

*Hope this cheers you up mate, bursts in song*


"Blue Monday how I hate Blue Monday

You got to work like a slave all day

Here come Tuesday, oh hard Tuesday

I'm so tired got no time to play

Here come Wednesday, I'm beat to my socks

My gal calls, got to tell her that I'm out

'Cause Thursday is a hard workin' day

And Friday I get my pay


Saturday mornin' oh Saturday morning'

All my tiredness has gone away

Got my money and my honey

And I'm out on the stand to play


Sunday mornin' my head is bad

But it's worth it for the time that I had

But I've got to get my rest

Cause Monday's a mess


*Puts down guitar, blows MW74 a kiss*

*Pours self large JD & Coke, slumps in chair*

looks up to see Cit. Ed and Jah chin chinning themselves with glasses of booze....


hums...


All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places, worn out faces

Bright and early for their daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere......


wonders why Citizen Ed was in a tent....


the tears are filling up their glasses...

*Sniffs Citizen's foot, sobers up immediately*

*All this camping in the rain I think you may have trenchfoot old bean*

*The mention of the word training has sent me back to the bar*

**Quick slurp*

*Thinks Citizen may need to see a pharmacist*

*Pops out to local chemist, back in a tic*

*Just had a very weird dream involving voices, a knife and a lovely donkey*


*Wanders out to the Paddock(we havent been outside for ages) and THERE she is, the lovely Mrs Dobbin - in one piece and lactating nicely*


*Pats the delightful creature on the nose - "Nasty dreams, nasty voices from evil embittered people with nothing more to keep them company but mindless consumerism and a flea-bitten pooch - whosealovelydonkeyden? didums"*


*Donkey-Milk-Shakes anybody? Got organic mango and strawberries*

*Stands up from aubergine velvet arm chair and takes enormous pile of Razzles from handbag to distract Mr Popalopagus.*


*Walks outside and points to coffee table just inside the door.*


*Watches as Michael scampers inside abandoning donkey chum.*


*Smiles to self as enormous Russian gentlemen escort donkey into horse box so that she can be removed to a place of safety.*


*Unleashes little Batdog from handbag in order to ensure that Mr Popalopagus is kept busy while the donkey is escorted to a secret address in Australasia.*


Growling and screaming is heard from the quiet room...

Glances up over the top of copy of The Sunday Times and scowls.


Reaches into enormous handbag and removes small granade. Removes pin carefully in order to preserve perfect manicure.


Hurls incendiary device at donkey...


Rushes from quiet room.


Cries: "It was for the best - the man is obsessed with lactation" as is escorted out front door by attractive police man...


Signs enormous check for police retirment fund as vice squad officers flood into quiet room - escorting Mr Popalot away in enormous dark vehicle with no window.


Sits in fav chair and texts au pair to bring another bottle of Saint Veran...

*Ah, the Vice Squad, my favourite chums. I have spent many a happy hour in their evidence room doing "research" for my as yet unfinished thesis. Cheerfully accepts my share in DMs cheque and wanders back into the Quiet Room*


*Sadly DM refined nails were unable to pluck the pin from the grenade, picks it up and tosses it out of the window*


BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!


*Sorry ...."

*wakes from slumbers*

*overhears conversation*

*drinking? what drinking?*

*oh! preserved in alcohol*

*it would make perfect sense to me as I've been pickled for years

and been told I look pretty good for a man of my years*

*But I think DM's a natural and MP was just being bitchy*

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