This morning I shaved the back of Leftwing Idiot’s neck with a razor. It was brave of him to let me but he’d clearly weighed up the untidy neck/no head balance, and despite a few moments of nervousness he seemed reassured by my constant assurance that I could perform an:
“Artichoke-heart transplant.”
I bumped into Thump-A-Youth Man again earlier. I think he really is looking out for me like he said he would.
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