The Beautiful Game

I only caught the last 20 minutes of the old firm game last night. It was more than enough. What a ridiculous spectacle to see those leaders of men, McCoist and Lennon, held apart like wee laddies in a playground. Time for this sick institution to be put down, I reckon. But for the moment, a 25 point deduction would be a suitable punishment.

After work, met up with the usual crew to find a surfeit of women this month! Tsk. And Chas encouraged me to try an Aberlour A'Bunadh 'for the road'. Bloody hell, it's good. I was so enlivened and befuddled that I almost agreed to escort Ms F to Fingers Piano Bar after it, but left that to Herr H, poor fellow. The end of the week is upon us. Hurrah!