The hell dimension has just spawned one of the major players. But it is in a strop today, sulking and pretending to ignore everyone, whilst obviously praying for someone to pay it attention so it can tell its sad story to.
I wonder if there really is Thought Police, because if there are, then I am in serious trouble. The ill-wishing I sometimes heap upon his head would probably make even the hardened callous Yardie gangs cringe. Or green with envy.
But most of the time I like to think of myself as a happy person. But only sometimes. And invariably not at work where it is a case of being overworked, underpaid and ignored or talked about or talked over or down to, as if you are a lower form of human. Suppose this is what it feels like to be a hobbit.
Only I don't have hairy feet.
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