Hello honey, it's strange, I've been reading this blog for 2 or three years and don't think I've ever left a comment before. You, good sir, have seen me through countless hours of paralysing temp jobs and I thank you from the bottom of my bottom. I've also been living in bow and working around there/stratford/walthamstow for years and it makes reading your blog all the more excellent (I too am forced to endure the 'excellence' of the Royal London on an occasional basis. *sigh*) What follows is my current favourite (non-filthy) joke. For some reason it's more satisfying if you imagine the father as having a stern scots accent. I don't know why that might be. One night, little inflatable boy found that he could not go to sleep, not even with his little inflatable teddy, not even with the light on. So he crept from his room into his inflatable parents' bedroom and tried to squeeze into their bed with them. Ever so quietly he crept, ever so gently he lifted the sheets, but try as he might he could not squeeze into the bed with them, there simply wasn't room. Suddenly little inflatable boy had a marvellous idea. He reached over and, very carefully, opened his air valve and let some air escape from it. Then he gently did the same to his inflatable mum, and crept carefully around to repeat the process with his inflatable dad. This done, little inflatable boy found that there was just the right amount of space in his inflatable parents bed for a little inflatable boy to crawl in, curl up and go to sleep, and sleep he did. When little inflatable boy awoke in the morning, he opened his eyes to see the face of his inflatable dad, creased with anger standing over him still in his inflatable parent's bed. His father pointed at him and said, "Son, you've let me down, you've let your mother down, and worst of all, you've let yourself down". *grin* That replaced the former contents of that slot in my head that is filled with the joke you tell when someone says "go on, tell us a joke!" and you can't remember anything else. The former occupat of this slot went: "what do you call a hippoptamus with a machine gun?" "Sir." I like to think the little inflatable boy joke is an improvement. Good luck with the nights, dude. I'll miss you, but then I always do.