September 22nd, 2005


I eat a low-fat diet. I didn't plan to, I just sort of drifted into it, imitating Ailz, I guess. And having drifted into it, I can't get back.

Not that I want to.

We went to Hollingworth Lake the other day- a local beauty spot- and the smell of deep-frying from the fast food cafe by the car park made us turn tail and run. Once it would have been "Hey, Ailz, fancy a bag of chips," and now it's, "Gaah, get me out of here, I feel sick."

You'll Never Get Rich, You Sonofabitch....

I would like to pretend otherwise, but this business with Joe and the army eats away at me. I spend most of every morning feeling nauseous.

A soldier is a serf. The Queen owns him. Or, rather, Mr Blair owns him. The military is the one profession (I can't think of any others) where the working stiff doesn't have the right to say "I quit" and just walk out the door.

It makes me mad.

Of course I understand that if soldiers had the rights that every other citizen has then discipline would collapse and if discipline collapsed we wouldn't have an army and if we didn't have an army Mr Blair wouldn't be able to fight his foreign wars and- gosh- what a terrible thing that would be...

Yeah, I know- I'm a girlyman.

BTW you can read Joe in his own write at realpigdog