Unfortunately, Nottinghamshire is inimically linked with the dreary fiction that Robin Hood was somehow real and that the Sherriff is still Alan Rickman rather than the faceless bureaucrat currently ensconced in the good life. Leon Unczur, I think his name is. Notable only, so far as I’m aware, for a pointless and expensive trip to the USA with his chums and a desire to fine you for feeding the ducks. No really. Feeding the ducks on the city side of the river can land you with a £75 fine. Or rather it would, if anyone able to enforce the fine actually went near the river. At any point. Ever. As it is, we have some expensive signs that everyone ignores. Excellent.

Naturally this sort of vibrant and forward thinking environment has given rise to arguably some of the finest examples of the art of flag making. Look on and weep, ye vexillologists.

Obviously, when I was a lad, there was none of this sort of thing. We had to crawl through a minefield strewn with broken glass and goat foetuses to get to school where, inevitably, a large and unforgiving bastard would insist that we had to play rugby in the rain. And that was on a good day.

No really.

Heh.

I’m currently finding it difficult, for example, to not just tell chuggers to fuck off, and to restrain myself from simply pushing people out of the way whom I deem to be ‘dithering about like a fucking moron. Dear lord, what the fuck are you for?’ I realise that this isn’t a massive departure from my usual demeanour but I’m beginning to worry that rather than biting my tongue, I’m just going to chew it off.

I was making a sandwich today, as you do, and for reasons unknown was treated to a whole slew of poorly informed statements regarding what my father used to think of sandwiches and what he’d say if he saw me making one. I didn’t quite have the heart to point out that what was being said was utter bullshit, but it did make me realise that sandwich making wasn’t the strangest topic I’d been lectured on of late.

I’m guessing that it’s something to do with the coping process but I can’t, as of yet, explain what the point of it is. You don’t do the same thing with the living, so why the dead?

Seems like a lot of effort though.

Clicky.

Word.

Excellent.