Too Bloody Serious By Half

Guilty, guilty, guilty as charged. It's absolutely true. I have fallen foul of the worst vice known to writers, artists and performers everywhere. I've been taking myself far too seriously, and so I decided to seek (and find) specialist treatment. I need to improve my well-bean, boost my commune system, and enhance my move.

Over the full moon I tried retail therapy, sensual indulgence and self generosity, a trident attack of the most effective order, recommended to me by several women.

1. Look at our new bedding. A pink silk throw, blood-red pillows, pink sheets. Just in time for Valentines Day, or as it likes to call itself these days, Poke-n-Puke Day.



We stretched out the new super soft mattress-covering and put on our shiny smooth new sheets and clean, crisp new duvet cover. I know you can imagine the fun we had gently sleeping in such a riot of warmth.

2. Shameless Self-promotion.

She made me do this. You too can buy your tiny 24x32 advert for three dollars. Only three dollars! A snip, a bargain, a boon, a Walloon.

Kisses!! Mwah!