Right, I've just sent the newspaper editor the email I sent Clegg.
My son's still not home.
Which means of course I haven't played it by the Foca first.
I will let this go now by sinking my head in my bath water.
What's that you're saying stiggers? Que sera sera?
Well yes, best stop thinking about it all.
My son my sun my son, mummy can't wait to hug you.
(and damn, damn damn, I forgot to buy you a valentine's card. I'll find a way of getting one and go "ooh! Look what arrived for you! I totally forgot! Who's it from who's it from?!)
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