So, who wants to help ... to rattle on in the cellar?


Chiltern Brewery Beechwood Bitter.

That is all.


Thank you, dahlinks. All the way to Didcot before I could connect to the GWR wifi.
Had earrings, or possibly an M&S prawn sandwich, for lunch and am now besplodged with a very superior marie rose sauce. Fetching.
Departure was delayed by need for emergency drain fettling. Some short, fictional characters find that more exhilarating than I do.
Is it too early to start drinking?



There’s bin a yardarm, hasn’t there? Well then.

[pourity] [pourity] [pourity]


Very true, and equally convenient.
[thankity] [thankity]

Wonder if the pillock beside me realises how much I now know about his company, without even trying to eavesdrop. Rather the reverse, in fact.


I did once mention to such a one how grateful my MD would be when I gave him all the information I’d been unable to avoid overhearing – the prune had among other things mentioned how important it was for (I forget the name now) not to find out what he was doing, so it was easy to claim to work for them.

He moved instantly, and I got a round of applause from the rest of the carriage.


Brava, o Fish.
My thoughts are tending more to a knitting needle through his frontal and parietal lobes. Damn, these are borrowed needles, though. Dilemma.


Just pull 'em out and give 'em a good wipe, Gus.
Soo xx


Toss a pile of birdseed over 'im and establish a solid alibi.


You wouldn’t be suggesting a few red fevvers to incriminate robins now would you Dunnock dear?


(innocent tseep)

Who me? I was passing the afternoon in the Myopic Mendicant wiv fifty of me closest friends yeronner.


Silly me

I thought you were bringing me some nice bitter…

I have the bacon butties ready…


Talking of That Kind of Thing, would anyone mind terribly were I to have Newport nuked from orbit? Wiv or wivvout added birdseed.

Frodding 'orrible 'ole


Which you would presumably be far happier not being in?


yeah, that too. Have left him far behind now. He got off at Bristol TM, while I am between Cwmbran and Abergavenny.

Tony is going to be managed out. Or possibly a mangetout according to the evil spirit residing in this tablet. Naughty chap keeps stuff on his laptop, apparently.



I thought computers of all type were designed to store information…


…whether you want it stored or not


Some companies have this daft notion that info should be on their networks and that the drones play bonny and share. If there is an element of commission in their remuneration models, this does not invariably happen in a timely fashion…


Nuke the Home Of The Mole-Wrench? How could you?



You could establish a breeding colony elsewhere. They’d like that, I expect.e

About to go off air.
A bientot mes braves


Tara. Gus xx
We’ll miss you!
Soo xx