(Well noted, Zef.)

Congratulations Wade and Aria, now Waria, since they got married in Atlanta yesterday.

It's mad. My boy Wade got married. I am now remembering that train journey we shared in Sweden, like, six years ago. When we were small. Now were are less small. I am in Stoke Newington battering my keyboard. And Wade is married.

Argh! I just thought about... MINI WADES!

Mary's Skygod help us all.

Thinking of Wadebabies makes me think of the England that Wadebabies might grow up in. Today, I read the following in The Times:

"An electronic tracking device of the type used by police to monitor suspected terrorists was recovered from a car belonging to the leader of the London suicide bombers in the days following July 7, a senior security official has claimed."


This is a pisstake. So they were running a terrorist bombing "exercise" in the EXACT SAME STATIONS on the EXACT SAME DAY the bombs went off... and they were tracking the "actual" bombers.

Well, you would want to know they were doing their jobs properly.

Oh, bombists. Remember the description of the bus "suicide" bomber, frantically grabbing at his bag before it went off?

"Why did they buy return train tickets to Luton?" enquired The Daily Mail. "Why did they buy pay & display tickets for cars? Why were there no usual shouts of 'Allah Akhbar'? Why were bombs in bags and not on their bodies?"

I don't remember anyone answering. And I can barely remember the old England now. Here's the thing - I make up my own reality as I go along. I sussed that. So do you. So do they. Thing is, they know what they're doing. The world is awash with their magik. I can't look out of my window without seeing one of their sigils. So I make my own. So should you.

We are many. They are dickheads.

Yo, I want this!