Mood:  lazy

Jesus, sometimes I f*cking hate Sundays. OK I get a break from pushing my trolley around but it's those autograph hunting c*nts at the Bagel Bake that are making my life hell. Ever since the Evening Standard put the Bagel Bake on their website as a 24 hour eatery, some f*cking headcases who read this sh*t have been dressing up in black and hanging around the door. My trip to buy a dozen warm Bagels now has to be planned as carefully as collecting the back rent from Engelbert Humperdinck, luckily for me though the Bagel Bake has always had a secret entrance, just for the use of famous people and Mossad agents.

A couple of you have taken me to task about the unique Jewish way of predicting the weather on groundhog day. One of you reckoned it was unfair as it's pretty sunny down in that part of the world so the poor dangling Arab will always have a shadow. Can't say we noticed, probably because we got caught up in the excitement of the whole event.

Nothing else going on, my bike pump is still missing, and no word from that c*nt Jimmy Saville about getting me on "Jim'll Fix It". Wait until that c*nt turns up at the hospital next time, I'll run him over with my trolley and shove his cigar where the Sun don't shine...c*nt.

Shalom