Theres a dull, hollow pain in my left ventricle. I am tense, jumpy, hairtrigger irritable. And this is because bloody Sarnath Banerjee, using his peerless scamster/schmoozer skills, somehow convinced me to lend him my Monty Python DVDs. Strongly suspect I will call him once every five minutes today to find out how they are. Note: If anyone comments on this post, saying ‘But you never lent ME anything! But you never lend anyone anything!’ I will hunt you down and kill you.
Should I call him now? Its 8 in the morning.