After last night’s late one, I had a long lie until about 08:30.

I awakened with an erection like a war-memorial, which is always a refreshing – if ungainly – way to start the day.

I looked like I’d been drawn by Robert Crumb, so I practised some of my favourite strained facial expressions before getting myself a meaningful cup of tea.

I revised twelve pages of ‘snuff’ before getting torn into yesterday’s #followfriday on twitter.

This week, I decided to victimise @nothercelebrity, since I’d had so much fun with @prominentimbecile last week.

Reading back over these entries, I feel I should explain the twelve-page rule.

When I printed out the ‘snuff’ novel last weekend, it came to three hundred and fifty-seven pages. round it up to three-sixty and one thirtieth is twelve pages.

Each time I finish another dozen-block, I put another pound into a jar I keep beside my keyboard.

A spot of housework later and I did another dozen pages, before curling up with David Madden’s “revising fiction.”

After that, I whittled away a little more at next month’s novel, which has the working title, ‘dystopias’.

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