Poor old Auntie Barb. As you know, she dotes on her three cats and guess what happened? No? Give up? Well, Captain Beefcake defecated in her bed; not when she was actually laying in it of course, oh no - she was busy downstairs preparing her morning cup of tea at the time. By the way, Captain Beefcake is the name of one of her cats, I'm not in any way referring to the 1970s musician Captain Beefheart. I'm obliged to write that as my legal team are double checking everything I write via a high powered telescope situated approximately 2 kilometres (as the crow flies) away. On a boat moored on The River Thames if you really must know the precise location.
Apart from that, another internal post I applied for turned me down *again*. With not even a sniff at an interview *once more*. It's really difficult to keep motivated, it really is. Raahhhhh.
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