Concealed in the cupboard.

I believe I may have just eaten a sizeable bowl of ice-cream. I think on balance I did. First I had carrots, then I had ice-cream. Now I'm freezing. That'll be physics, that will. You can't pass heat from a cooler to a hotter, hence I lost degrees Celsius and doubtless otherwise to the ice-cream.

This post was supposed to be about bestiality.

I hope my brother hasn't decided over the past nine months that he doesn't like me. That'd be rubbish. I'm going to make him a cake, just to be sure. And we're going to watch Lost together because his flatmate watched the last few episodes without him and somehow has been forgiven nonetheless. And Nightingales. I'm going to make him watch Nightingales and if he doesn't like it I'll probably have to disown him, but it's fine, because he will like it. I know his brain fairly well.

My brother does not engage in bestiality. Not even for comic purposes.

I cannot cope with Alistair Darling's being in the public eye, and he very much is. His eyebrows and his hair do not in any sense match. That's the main reason really. His eyebrows are like they came off an entirely different animal. I can't bear it. Probably I can if I try even a little bit. The BBC news announcer person just said 'Hello, Darling'. If we're going to get all the Captain Darling jokes, I might actually be able to handle the situation.

I don't think Alistair Darling has very much to do with bestiality. Oh. Hornblower'll do.

Why is Blair still on the telly? I thought we buried him.