Reading and plasters and quiet and hair.

[whatho]

I want to make Bush read Moazzam Begg's piece in today's Guardian magazine. There are lots of things I think Bush ought to read. But you have probably grasped the major flaw in my plan already. I shall therefore excuse you the punchline.

I have covered my fingers and knuckles in plasters. I'm like a sort of plaster beast now. I can't bend my fingers sufficiently to type or to twang or to pick stuff up, but I don't mind. I am stoical. Actually I just quite like being covered in plasters. They are warm. And they stop me itching and bleeding and stinging. I loves them.

You are very quiet this weekend.

I am going to have my hair cut now. Bye bye.