We'll Show You What We Can Do With A Load Of Balls And A Snooker Cue

'S eight o'clock in the morning. 'M at work. Jus' went past Warren Street on the bus and thought, 'Hey, I was only just here six hours ago.'
'S Masters final las' night, las' one at Wemmerbly, classic match the little man, wassname Parrott, possibly, can't remember, too tired, the little man said. Had the little earpieces to hear the commentary, got a program, saw Dennis Taylor (You're my favorite!) and Parrott walking down the road on our way to the venue, got a souvenir mug for lovely husband, everything (except Ronniestyle I Love Snooker t-shirt, of which they had sold out. Russum). Very exciting match. Went aaaaall the way to a decider, very exciting, very late, very annoyed nasty Higginses stole the precious from Ronnie (10-9, 64-60 in the last frame scored like so: Ronnie gets 60, misses one ball and chubby t'iefed the match).
Very lucky to catch the last tube. To Baker Street. To walk aaaaaaall the way from Baker Street to Warren Street in the very very cold, then get a bus home and get in and look at the clock and say, "I have to be up in four hours."

Ronnie behaves self suspiciously well (You're My favorite!).

'S FUCKIN' BRILLIANT! So doing it again next year!

In other news:

Lib Dems Steerpiked again by 'Homo-Affairsgate'.

Government announce plans to allow up to two Liberal Democrat MPs to set up house together.

Kennedy wishes he'd kept his mouth shut another couple of weeks. Wee snifter doesnae seem so bad now, does it big man?