As dictated by his lordship

I knew it was coming, but the inevitable email from Marcosy still came as something of a shock when it exploded into my inbox this morning:

"Where's your latest blog post? I'm getting impatient!"

So, Marcosy, this one's for you.

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I went out on my bike in the glorious sunshine at the weekend. Ah-ha! I thought, maybe even thrusting my pointed finger into the air while a cartoon light bulb appeared above my head - here's a perfect opportunity to sort out those blasted tanlines! An earlier bike ride, y'see, left me with some pretty severe lines at around the arm level of a short-sleeve t-shirt - the kind of thing that leaves you looking like you're wearing a pasty, flesh coloured t-shirt when you pull your top off.

My stroke of genius here, then, was that it was so hot I decided to go out in just my shorts; of course, I say 'just my shorts,' but then you have to figure in my camelbak - a rucksack with a water-filled bladder I can suckle from while cycling. What my stroke of genius failed to take into consideration was that my camelbak has straps; thus, the result is that while I'm rid of the original tanlines (they've now been incorporated into some sort of weird tan-based gradient), I now possess some stunning new ones that make me look like I'm wearing a pasty, flesh coloured wife-beater. But only on my back.

Sometimes I *just* can't win.

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My hair looks awesome today.

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I arrived home to something of a surprise last night: a huge wheelie bin parked outside my house. And then I noticed there was a huge wheelie bin parked outside everyone's house. It was like a really cheap episode of Doctor Who. Being laden-down with shopping after a trip to Sainsbury's, I pretty much gave my wheelie bin an ironic look, and walked straight on past it. Ten minutes later, though, I was back out to have a look at it, and pretty much just stood there looking like a spacker checking out a wheelie bin. About all I was able to glean from it was that, yep, it was a wheelie bin. So I wheeled it round to the side of my house. Then I figured I'd put some rubbish in it. I mean, why the hell not?

A few hours later, I was doing some work (did I mention I'm really busy at the moment? I'm rushed off my tanned titties, people), when a letter popped through my letter box - it was from my resident's association, and was all about the exciting new bin situation. Being a little bit eager to get the full skinny on what was going down, and being even more eager to not do any work for a couple of minutes, I went outside to talk to the dear old lady in charge of such matters.

To cut a long story short, it seems like we'll be getting another exciting wheelie bin for recycling soon, giving each little house two ma-hoo-sive wheelie bins. Now, in the grand scheme of things this is a super idea, but it's going to make my little road look like a bit like a retirement home for wheelie bins. And I'm pretty sure some drunken chav will, at some point, take utter delight in upending the whole lot and leaving us to pick up the pieces.

*shakes fist at chavs*

Anyway, I was talking to this little old lady for about 10 minutes, when all of a sudden she abruptly turned the conversation on its head and started trying to sell me on the prospect of becoming a director of the resident's association. Oh blimey, I thought, desperately trying to extricate myself from the conversation; sadly, my excuse that I simply *had* to press on with a four-page gatefold on the asteroid ship Yonada (as featured in episode 65, 'For the World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky') fell on deaf ears. It was at that moment that I briefly considered picking the dear thing up and popping her in my new wheelie bin. And I really would have, if I could've been bothered to wrestle an old lady at nine-thirty at night.

I'm blaming her if this issue goes late.

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And now an apology:
Dear Channel 5 weather girl Lara Lewington - please accept my humblest, most sincere apologies. Recently, I put a video of one of you weather reports up on youtube, where, it seems, you have attracted the lascivious attentions of a number of youtube users. It was not my intention to put you forward as an object of sexual desire for tinternet users, and I regret that this is the case.

On the plus side, you may like to know that you've been rated five out of five, and at least one user would "totally knob" you.

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Bunny watch:
Regular readers will recall that I went for a midweek bike ride last week. And I enjoyed it so much I've just done it again! Obviously what with it being the evening and the Met Office issuing a severe weather warning there was little opportunity for me to try and correct the aforementioned tanline issue, but it did provide me with another chance to check out the little bunnies on the towpath by Hampton Court. Aaaah, they were there again, and still looking sweet and adorable. Although I am thinking that I may have to stop doing this route, because the law of averages suggests that one day I'm going to have a bunny-related incident, and I really don't want to have to either swap insurance details with a rabbit, or have to put one out of its misery after it gets caught up in my chain. Hmmm… I suppose I could alway lob it in the river…

Anyway, I was going to take a little video of the bunnies milling around for you all to see, but when I arrived at a place with sufficient lighting I glanced over and saw this rough-looking beast of a bunny sitting on his haunches glaring at me, totally at odds with all the other cheerful looking bunnies. It was like a bunny godfather. If bunnies could speak, this one would've said "No picture! No paparazzi!" in a threatening east-european accent. That being the case, I just kept pedalling.

I really didn't want that disease ridden, grizzled old bastard launching itself at me on a Tuesday evening.