Task avoidance continues in spades. Much nicer to work through emails, chat to friends and so on (namecheck Mrs Sew & Sew) than actually read the books borrowed from the Birkbeck Library and write a piffling 1,000 words on what a miserable time King Stephen had. But, essay absolutely has to be started this week.
Modern political history is more interesting, anyway. Who'd have thought that Ken Clarke would come back, aged 68, to assassinate melifluously from the Dispatch Box? His arch enemy in the Tory party, Alan Clark (10 years dead in September), once described K as a podgy life insurance risk. Who's having the last laugh and who is spinning in his winding sheet?
God, bring on the day when that fucking one-eyed robbing bastard, dead-duck-bail-outing, state-payrolling bastard Gordy Broon is dumped on by the voters. It's coming.
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