As of today, this marks the 4 week anniversary which isn’t a thing by its very name, but we are all really pissed off by the whole debacle, pissed off but not pissed, in a pub, because they don’t exist, any more, for me its my little spot in the garden, the sun trap outside my shed.

I’ve been playing football every day with my son, every day we kick it over the fence into my neighbours garden who previously said it was ok. There was no problem with us popping round, to retrieve the ball without knocking on, I knocked and he told me this. But today he got really cross, he shouted at me, told me I was being un-neighbourly, how can he and his partner sit in the garden when bullets are flying overhead. Bullshit, not Bullets.

Life is hard in the lockdown, we all know this, we are all in the same fucking bath, and theres not much we can do but wash our sweaty nuts in the tepid water, until the taps start flowing again, and the drains are unblocked. Speaking of which there was a water man out by our outflow pipe today, hoping to snare us, hoping our poo is more toxic than his own boss’s. He’s not going to find a damn thing, ours is like potpourri to any normal person. We smell only of roses, not bullshit.