Time for bed

I believe it may be time to pack up my computer and put my energies into something more worthwhile. The latest reports by Google confirm that no one - not even the dreaded Googlebots — have visited this blog in a over a month.

Not even the ballad of Jim Sharpe brought in a viewer. It appears I have delighted you long enough.

Watching girls in their underwear

Sorry for the lack of blogging recently, I've been occupied with watching YouTube footage of a young woman dancing in her underwear.

Whenever I see an attractive woman now, I instantly press a Nintendo's Wii Fit game into their hands with the suggestion that I will be invited to see the results, once she has had time to master the hula-hoop routine.

The Wii has been a marvel of an invention, but I'd like to see better games on it. What about virtual foxhunting or bash-the-rat?

Any offers?

After growing tired of that Heywood fellow, I sent him packing with one of the "King Edward" cigars I reserve for the servants on Boxing Day.

Before the bounder left, he manged to take £260,000 or more from the petty cash drawer in my study, leaving me short for the weekend.

This lack of ready funds has been compounded by the need to advertise the vacant position in the Sunday Times, whose rates compare unfavorably with the Formby Champion, where I usually place my messages.

Bearing all this in mind, I find I can now only offer a salary of £150,000pa for the Sefton job. I know it's not much, but maybe there's a single young man out there, probably still living at home, who will be able to stretch it out.

I'll bung in use of the rolls on Monday's to sweeten the deal.