It's very dark out there this morning. And it's very dark in here too as the light bulb has blown and I can't be bothered to look for a replacement.
Luckily, I can see the keyboard from the light cascading out of my 20 inch screen. What a relief I hear you sigh, that means he can write another couple of paragraphs of drivel.
I think if you read my little efforts on a regular basis you will be aware that I do write tongue in cheek most of the time, I like being daft as it keeps me sane. There are days when the serious thought creeps onto the electronic page - but this is not one of them.
Why can't we have a pretty gymnast win the World Championship? Whilst I applaud her skill and ability Ms Tweddle is not what you would call pretty in a traditional sense and I just think we should make an effort for the London Olympics to find a pretty girl to win the gymnastics.
We have found a personable and handsome little lad to jump into the pool from silly heights, Tom Daly, so where are all the pretty young girls?
But of course I know where they are, they are all at home with their babies.
We not only have the World Champion on the Floor Exercises in Beth Tweddle, we have a whole raft of young women who are expert on the floor, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the garden etc etc.
There seems to be a whole generation of young women who want babies desperately and then they still want their life to go on as before, parties and shopping and the like...no wonder their sons and daughters grow up without standards and morals.
Now will you look at that, a serious thought did creep out after all, I should be more careful and take precautions in the future, pity some of those teenage 'parents' didn't do the same!
I'm writing to the Daily Mail now, perhaps I could get a job with them.
On this day in 1216 King John dies whilst visiting Newark on Trent, and is succeeded by his nine year old son Henry. I shall be visiting Newark later today and will pass the scene of that death which is still being investigated by Notts Police. They do have a suspect, Croxton, a local Monk. They say enquiries are continuing and they hope to make an arrest sometime in the next three of four hundred years. Not bad for Notts Police!
It is thought the Monk slipped the King a piece of peach pie laced with poison. The headlines read in the local paper, 'Former Prince Perishes after Picking Poison Peach Pie Piece'.
The pie was baked following a recipe by a distant relative of mine, he wasn't a Monk, he was a Drewid. He wrote a cook book called Ye Olde Poisoners Cooke Booke & How to Strangle a Chicken In Three Easy Lessons. He was a big star locally but after his recipe was used to kill the King he went into hiding and spent his final days strangling chickens under an assumed name.
And that's a fact!