Slow Puncture...

My housemate is a disappeared agains. Last week he stole my bike pump away to London to constantly assuage his slow puncture, whereas he knew I needed it to fix my rather more rapid and aggressive puncture. This resulted in my acute displeasure and culminated in me sending him an email to the effect that I was tempted to break his legs and then steal his wheelchair tyre pump, whilst concurrently employing ASBO-boys to deflate his tyres on a regular basis... I have not seen him since he received this message. I even have looked in the small cupboard/refugee room in the house, with negative result.

In fact my other housemate, or housematess as she may be refered to also failed to come home last night... maybe it's a trap! I'll change all the locks, and see how they like it then...

I was saddened this morning when I realised that one of the greatest jokes ever, indeed a personal favourite of mine, has in the current state of the world become victim to comedy fate and become less funny; now it is more of a statement - and it goes a little something like this...

Jokemaster: What do most birds die of?

Jokefool: I have no idea. Please tell me.

Jokemaster: Flu! A-ha ha haaaaaaaa

Not so funny now eh? And while it never really worked for flightless birds such as penguins, emus and kiwis. It certainly doesn't work with H5N1.... just sinister.