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*staggers in*

*eyes wine but doesn't dare risk it given the quantity of painkillers recently swallowed*

*gives DM's shoulder a friendly and reassuring squeeze (thereby also surreptitiously using her for support) as he passes by*

*lies down looking for all the world as if he's done his back in while over-enthusiatically removing daughter 1 from her cot*

*Bounces into room, full of life after invigorating weekend - hope my Mum liked her Microwave*


*Where are the papers? more to point, where are my magazines-of-gentlemen's-easement? I cant cope with Bridal Magazines*


*Opens Bridal Magazine - Martha Stewart in hand-cuffs, hmm - I'm off to the lav"*

*Muses to self - it is not me that uses the garden as a urinal it is Mr"cantdoanywrong"Batdog!, the very rare orchids in the upper paddock have turned brown as a result of the little sods emanations*


*My trip to the Privvie with Martha "Scar-Face" Stewart was merely an example of multi-tasking i.e. a number 2 combined with reading an article that was a searing enditement of the US Penal system and cake baking*


*Perhaps a trip to the vets would cure Batdogs leg-cocking tendency?*


"Mr Batdog, here boy, Mikeys got a BIG surprise for you, here doggie, good doggie .............."

*makes mental note to congratulate mockney on perfect prioritisation, prevents inappropriate use of the 3rd rule of drink club...*


*lower eyelid twitches.. now what on earth reminded me of drink club??*


*starts whistling yellow polka dot bikini to alter path of circling demons*

*Wanders in looking innocent, sporting a rather excellent new pair of pink cufflinks*


*Nods in commiseration toward Mockney P*


*Cant help but noticing that Huguenot seems to be phasing between this and an alternative, alternative reality - which must be quite confusing and possibly a cause of travel sickness*


*Settles into arm chair, finds bag of furry Thorntons best toffees hidden down the back (safe from Shambles) and chew away, happily meditating on the secured safety of the orchids in the upper paddock*

"Is that foxes I can hear outside?"

*Pulls on wellington boots, turns up collar of overcoat against the cold, opens the back door and heads off across the lawn, towards a watering can which is leaning against the garden shed*

*The sound of tinkling can be heard in the distance, followed by a frantic scampering as the foxes head for more pleasant pastures further afield*

The sound of scampering can also be heard in a neighbours house, as they run for the telephone and summon the police! You would need a license to distribute that "noxious" substances from the Dulwich Estates if you lived on the right roads around here I can assure you! Even if it is organically produced.


Mr Bald Marauder, you really are quite a scamp!

*Takes a deep breath before beginning clarification of actions*

"Said weeing took place INSIDE the garden shed, into a watering can specifically kept for that purpose. All potentially offending appendages were carefully tucked away before emerging from shed with watering can fully loaded and ready for use."

*Raises corners of mouth in wry smile, suggesting bemusement (and amusement) at misinterpration of actions*

*Quietly enjoys marauding reputation, even though at heart is warm and empathetic*

*Pops head round door*


*Realises it's all getting a bit noisey in here*


*Runs to soda-stream and makes cream soda*


*Opens doors to new beautiful landscape of the blue mountains in Australia*


*Strolls out to patio and relaxes on lounger*


*Hopes that Piers or Crystal will post photo from my flickr entitled "beautiful" to show of said landscape, as can't access flickr from real world office*

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