Today I feel like a cyborg. I have spent the morning in Brecon War Memorial Hospital, where I have been wired to what feels like the national grid. I have 5 sensors around my torso, and a box the size of a packet of cigarettes with it's own little holdall and strap all under my t-shirt. Now I'm not completely sure, but on the way home I think I heard Radio 2 coming from my left nipple and when I walk past my keys they turned and moved towards my belly button. I also noticed that my mobile phone signal isn't so hot unless it's in my groin and that I can now type without even touching the keys. I would like to go for a kip in the garden this afternoon, but knowing my luck a local typhoon pilot would get lock on and fire a heatseeker making my piles a thing of beauty as they're spread across the local valley.
"Thankfully lacking in sheep." Ricardipus "Better than Typhoid" Vicus Scurra "Force of Habit" Mosh "Done, but with errors on page" Sharon (formerly known as Adrian) "That'll do, pig. That'll do." Dawn "I feel all warm & fuzzy here among my fellow deviants." Bryn "Another Ricicles fan." Debster "It's a GREAT website." Big sis in Florida "Your website is the best thing since sliced bread and gravy granules" Cuz'n Doug