The Madness of King Dong

Fridays are happy days. So I attended the 3rd day in a row at the Stasis Booth (formerly known as the Sweatbox, but that was in the summer) and it was fun as usual.

The poor adult operatives have to cope with a lot during these high days and holidays, or perhaps you can only cope with the holidays if you're high.

At one point at least 3 kids were crying so I kept out of it with my latest book. We did do some junkyard creationism (you never know what's going to evolve) with the coffin of goodies from Bud's work and then we did Over-9s Swimming.

I always love this apart from the tummy-skin rashes you get off the flotation devices. But they've got new, milder floats now and my skin is babysoft ... but that's a story for another day.

Incidentally, for those who couldn't find me in yesterday's picture of me playing hide'n'seek in the dark - here's the same picture with the lights on.

In swimming, we ganged up on the adult leaders because deep down, we're all, er, persons whose parents were not married. I am a competent swimmer so swam underwater and undiscovered behind one adult, pulled down his trunks and pushed him upwards and we all totally saw his willy and we all laughed but it was ok because we were all boys together, the girls had overwhelmingly opted to see the afternoon film which was not 'Frozen' or similar, but 12 episodes of Tom'n'Jerry.

So of course he whipped his panties back up again pronto but Bud said that adults in charge of kids are very allergic to that kind of thing because of prior difficulties with Priories and stuff, where Jim just can't fix it.

Then it was time for my normal actual swimming lesson and I did well and in the changing room afterwards the rest of them were loud and slow and I was out first and told all the waiting Mummies how slow their kids were ie " Child A is still in his trunks, Child B is in socks only, Child C etc etc." and as I left, the male changing rooms were invaded by lots of angry Mummies, ho ho.

My dear friend and follower Martin (who I still mix up with Blind Uncle Len who died 3 years ago, aged 92) had a clothy-type package delivered to his work so we brought it home and delivered it to him, as he is currently off with madness.

Right outside his house is some graffiti - a threatening mural of a malevolent smoke-Zombie, enough to make anyone scared to leave the house, most unfair.

He was gibbering on the floor but has long enough arms to reach the doorhandle so I gave him his shirt and he said he had to talk to the green people about the giant spiders and so we went home, where Jof 'went to the gym' for the second Friday night running.