Apropos of nothing, here is one of the new metal towers that has started to appear in the newly dredged part of the Solent (with Fort Monckton behind), to help guide in the newer, larger aircraft carriers that the country is building, assuming the money doesn't run out. It has ladders going all the way up with little platforms and traffic lights at the top. Just imagine turning the light red and saying no you can't come in because of a slow-moving train at Littlehampton. Or setting the traffic control virus from the Italian Job on it, the one with the winding-tapes going blub blib blub.
Then us chaps bundled into one corner until some of our number were getting crushed, and then we did the fireworks trick. This is something we did at the Festival of christmas where a group run out forwards like a rocket and then suddenly go bang and scatter, like the rocket exploding, and allies like Ben and Stan liked my idea.
I was Leader of Rocket 3 and we exploded all over the girls and made them scream, in a kind of spur-of-the-moment flashmob. This is all good practice for when I am a cult leader, all that crowd control and inspiring the dull masses to rise up and dethrone the High Panjandrum.
And at home, the carpenter man has installed a new gate (but failed to take away the old one), which is Interesting Grey, as opposed to Gunmetal Grey, or Municipal Grey, which was more expensive. I helped get the xmas decorations down out of the loft and look forward to hiding behind the tree again, assuming my butt hasn't grown significantly in the last twelvemonth. Insisting we put everything up immediately to encourage xmas to come early, I hung every bauble I could find on the tree and then served up endless helpful Youtube tracks such as Eye of the Tiger and 50 Praising Hits for Lord-Lovers.