Random thought train goes choo choo

I didn’t dream about anything last night. What does it mean?

Today I have taken my laptop in to work and have it rigged up to my monitor. Then I have another laptop on the desk as well. That’s three monitors. I am still getting nothing done. It’s like the Matrix, I’m Neo, and I already look like I’m on board the Nebuchadnezzar, so if working in London Bridge is grim reality, I’d like someone to tell me when I can do some anti-gravity arse-kicking with evil agents. I want to take the red pill.

I watched the X Factor at the weekend, forced into it by evil people who came and took over my television. The Irish kid, the blonde girl and the whoops-you’re-about-ten-years-out-of-date boy band were utterly, utterly, depressingly feeble. Simon Cowell and the entire voting British public must be on crack.

Rage is building inside me, evil stinking rage, and I currently expect to explode destroying London like a nuclear Peter Petrelli some time next week.

No-one seems to know quite who’s in charge here.