Plus ça change, plus c’est la même run rate analysis

Here again in the spooky cold office with no-one else around and the lights going out every five minutes requiring a ridiculous dance which results in my iPod headphones getting tangled up with my mouse. Whoopee do, life in the M&A fast lane. The proverbial late night axe murderer charging hrough the darkened office could run at me, strike a lethal blow through my skull and get out of the building before the so-called firking motion-sensing lights finally blink into life.

Not sure I'm going to hang around to find out. I dream of sleep. Yet when I sleep I don't dream. Odd.

This is getting silly

Wonder if the Lotus Notes chick only has half a face.

Another night deep in Excel, although I'm in the comfort of home, watching a random Italian film on Film 4, in the vain hope that one of the actresses might get their kit off. It's the time of night when the ads are either government porn announcements, or premium rate safety announcements. Or something.

It's like being 17 again, except that I have to get up at 6am tomorrow and sort the children out, instead of lurking in bed until 1pm.

To tired to go on. Even the cat has gone to bed.

And it's still only Thursday...

Hosanna in Excel, sis