Last night

I treated myself to a nice bottle of Picpoul De Pinet and went home to a pork chop and bubble and squeak for dinner. On Friday night I'd deliberately cooked some extra cabbage for this purpose. Then I sat down to Carry On Cabby. It was not to be. The people upstairs (who, of course are not cunts) were being right cunts and making loads of noise. The little kid really gets to me. It's like a malevolent elf. I turned in in quite a temper at just before half past nine.