This is turning into a very odd thread
From Tunnocks Teacakes to Polar Bears in one day.

I now have to take my 19 month old (who, rather worryingly, has not done a poo yet today and is bound to explode as soon as I get onto the bypass) to collect the demon child, and worse, collect my wife and say something complimentary about her new haircut.

I feel like the first and last scenes in Apocalypse Now - Herr Sheen staring at the ceiling sweating a lot in the depths of despair and the final "The horror...the Horror".

Normal service will be resumed if I live.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Wed 23 Jul 2008, 16:32, Reply)