Pepys Show
Up, and it being bitter cold, and frost and snow, which I had thought had quite left us. I by Tube to the office, listening by iPod to the new Madam Allen single, this the first week it has been heard, and very fine it is. She is a fine, healthy girl with a turn of phrase uncharacteristic of her sex; and yet I pray she is not chosen as the Doctor's new assistantress.
The office not being busy due to the snow, my colleagues had much discourse concerning the recent blasphemous outburst of Mr Bale, the Welsh actor of some repute. I quickly tired of their lazy observations and chose not to concern myself with such ado.
Rather I passed the morning perusing firstly the BBC News website and then Facebooke, whereupon I discovered that my good friend Lord Dartmouth was "no longer in a relationship". By texte I offered my regrets and suggested that he accompany me to the alehouse of Mr Wetherspoon to talk of his great misfortune.
So away with Lord Dartmouth, whereupon we both availed ourselves of the many strong ales on offer, which prove very good. We staid there all evening, discoursing at length on the subject of Lady Dartmouth, whom it was agreed was of poor character and not of the standard of fairness my Lord was entitled to expect. Indeed it was noted that her rump had expanded greatly since Lord Dartmouth had since been introduced to her. We parted in better spirits, blessed be to God, in agreement that "bros before hoes" would henceforth be our guiding maxim.
Thence to McDonald's cookshop for a great feast which was much required after the excesses of the evening. I confess I consumed it with such expediency that I barely registered the taste.
Having missed the final Tube, I was forced to return home by foot though the snow. Lord! what a fearful walk homewards I had, encountering a large and boisterous group of men who came from the cockfight at Bermondsey. Fortunately some difference arose betwixt them and I quickened my own pace until I was rid of them.
So home again at a late hour. My wife having gone out of town, I catch myself idly watching Girls Of The Playboy Mansion on E! with one hand down my breeches, and yet more time is lost when I should be asleep. Then wearily to bed, whence I pray for continued snow, lest it excuse my absence from the office on the morrow.
The office not being busy due to the snow, my colleagues had much discourse concerning the recent blasphemous outburst of Mr Bale, the Welsh actor of some repute. I quickly tired of their lazy observations and chose not to concern myself with such ado.
Rather I passed the morning perusing firstly the BBC News website and then Facebooke, whereupon I discovered that my good friend Lord Dartmouth was "no longer in a relationship". By texte I offered my regrets and suggested that he accompany me to the alehouse of Mr Wetherspoon to talk of his great misfortune.
So away with Lord Dartmouth, whereupon we both availed ourselves of the many strong ales on offer, which prove very good. We staid there all evening, discoursing at length on the subject of Lady Dartmouth, whom it was agreed was of poor character and not of the standard of fairness my Lord was entitled to expect. Indeed it was noted that her rump had expanded greatly since Lord Dartmouth had since been introduced to her. We parted in better spirits, blessed be to God, in agreement that "bros before hoes" would henceforth be our guiding maxim.
Thence to McDonald's cookshop for a great feast which was much required after the excesses of the evening. I confess I consumed it with such expediency that I barely registered the taste.
Having missed the final Tube, I was forced to return home by foot though the snow. Lord! what a fearful walk homewards I had, encountering a large and boisterous group of men who came from the cockfight at Bermondsey. Fortunately some difference arose betwixt them and I quickened my own pace until I was rid of them.
So home again at a late hour. My wife having gone out of town, I catch myself idly watching Girls Of The Playboy Mansion on E! with one hand down my breeches, and yet more time is lost when I should be asleep. Then wearily to bed, whence I pray for continued snow, lest it excuse my absence from the office on the morrow.