Further ramblings of a self-made pauper

Ah, the luxury. For the first time in a fortnight (almost exactly) the trip in to work was stress and hassle-free. The Northern Line is working properly and is not too crowded. The interchange at Euston was flawless, and I managed to get a seat. All in all, I managed a decent doze pretty much all the way in to Victoria, arriving in the office at about 10.03, which is not quite spot on time for core hours, but near as damn it is to swearing.

I have been giving some thought to this avian flu which the media is doing its damnedest to scare us witless about. One budgie in Greece sneezes and suddenly the pandemic is upon us. The EU has apparently suspended all movement of birds across frontiers in Europe.

Do the birds know?

Expect to see hunters with shotguns lining the cliffs at Dover blasting away at every blessed thing that comes within range.

I have never had flu, but I am lead to believe that whisky and lemon is effective in alleviating the symptoms. Get the birds pissed; if they’re all sitting on perches nursing hangovers, they aren’t going to be flying around coughing and hacking at all and sundry.

Mind you, the sight outside every Off Licence every morning is going to look like a scene from Hitchcock.