A parakeet swooped down, landing on my monitor today. Though it seemed normal at the time it is a little disturbing to me now I must admit.
She said to me:
"Hey twinkle toes, you're dancing needs improving but I can respect it, largely because you got a cute tush. Did you know some Swedish men dressed as Mumford & Sons just shat all over that now defunct website you occasionally wrote for? You know, the music one when you took lots of drugs and thought you were interesting?"
Shaking with rage I exclaimed:
"¡Bastardos! They must relinquish what little remaining influence over the radio waves they still have and with haste!"
Suddenly aware of my position atop my desk, fist raised high, I noticed my colleagues were looking upon me with concern. I got back in to my seat and found myself here.
Meanwhile my darling bird flew away:
"Later daddio, cute tush maybe but you still talk like a ponce."
She was joking but... perhaps she is right. It's nice to see some of you are still here.