KGB isn't restricting its operations to London, baby. There after me for sure... It's been a shit house these last days. Quite literally. First of all I've been up to my tits in shite at work. Actually, up to my boss' tits: it's mostly his manure anyway and since he's only 4'1" it doesn't take all that much excrement to reach said tits. If you ever wanted to make a Smurf porn movie, I'll get you his number. But anyway, Wednesday evening I was about to explode since the crap-o-meter had reached overload at around lunchtime. My head was absolutely throbbing. That evening I went for a quick bite at the veggie fast food (that just spells disaster doesn't it...) and had a forest mushroom tagliatelle. I was hoping that the copious intake of mushrooms might expand my mind but to no avail. Something did expand though... That morning I awoke very much like Ronald Reagan in the Land of Confusion-video (not with an old tart next to me, but bathing in my own sweat...). Thought I'd be fine, but by the time I reached work, my stomach contracted again and my rear cargo hull discharged its dilithiumcrystals with an ease that would have made Scotty grasp for air. I'm sure some of Poetins agents poisoned my tagliatelle. I've got the hairdo, don't I?