Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Goodbye

Dear Landlord/Room mate,

I'm Really sorry, my money didn't come through and I've had to go back to England to sort it out. I'll be in touch about the rent soon. You're a really nice guy and this wasn't my intention, sorry.

Tenant

Is how my concise and uneloquent final correspondence to my landlord and flatmate read.

I'd been thinking about running away without paying any of the promised rent for about a week, ever since I discovered that money owed to me from England was not going to happen.

In the final few days I had been avoiding my landlord. We shared a 1 bedroom flat in Sweden: me in the bedroom and him in the living room. This meant that I had no shared access to any facilities, my bedroom consisting of basically a matress on the floor causing it to look like a smack den.

In the beginning I made a firm resolve that I wouldn't go into the living room and make use of any TV/Dvd/Combination as this would be unfair behaviour towards someone who had been good to me.

I think I cracked within 2 days, starting to regularly watch videos and Dvds when he was at work. I decided that this was actually right for me to do this, not wrong, and now it would only be wrong if I started drinking his chai tea and using his record player.

But, I really like chai tea and I really wanted to listen to music.

The longer I settled in there the more boundaries I continually set for myself and then subsequently broke.

<>Don't delve into his sealed Lord of the Rings Christmas chocolate pack that he obviously sees as a collectors item.

<>Don't go into his laptop to watch naruto.
<>Don't play with the scanner.

<>Don't route through his drawers and start playing with his camera.

<>Don't toot on his trombone.


One day he announced that he was going to a role playing game in Stocholm and wouldn't be back until the next day. I made myself at home: eating in the living room, records, dvds and videos everywhere. Actually, I'm bored so I think I'll drop some acid and listen to music.


30 minutes later the door opens and he's there with his girlfriend.
Shit.
I hadn't planned ever to be in this situation and so I had to think on my feet aiming to Guide myself out of it without having to directly aplogise or face any immediate consequences.


"Er, I had the Tv on there."
Shit! Terrible opener, need to direct attention away from the crime scene to an equally heinous act.


"The cat did a poo on the floor..."
Better, yes, don't forget about the evil cats now.


"even though the litter tray was clean..."
Aha! See? Their act was senseless, at least mine had some justification.


"I mopped it up though."
Perfect twist to put myself in a positive light.

'My plans were changed, I hope we didn't disturb you'

My flatmate says this in the manner of those kind teachers at school. The ones who don't shout at you for being naughty, but make you feel really guilty inside by treating you nice and softly. They don't get angry so you have something to hate them back at for, they wanna see you squirm with embarrassment and admit your wrongs. In this instance "I hope we didn't disturb you" really meant. Haha! Look what you do when you think you have free reign over my flat. What the fuck are you doing? We've caught you in the act, red handed and there's no escape.

I decide to go into dumb mode and take these words for their literal meaning


"No...no...it's fine..don't worry about it, no need to apologise"
Haha, what a genius way to avoid all confrontation.

I went into my room and crawled into bed with the lights off. I feared greatly for what was going to happen to me being trapped in a dark room with a head full of acid.

No comment.

I avoided him for the remaining few days. I knew that if I saw him then I would feel guilty and I didn't wanna feel that way.

It became apparent that I was gonna have to do a runner and this felt fucking awful that I would leave Leylla, but it felt good that I was gonna skip the rent. Even though I liked my flat mate and he had been good to me, I couldn't muster up any feelings of conscience about running away. 2 weeks before he had announced that he had just found a bank account that he had "forgotten" about with £4000 in it and so I guess I had little sympathy at that point.

When I had been on his laptop I had seen the photos he had taken with his camera. Really bad shots of the cats and some zoomed in shots of The Simpsons opening credits. This really annoyed me as my camera is broken; I use cameras well and enjoy getting creative with them. The same thing happens when I see some little rich punk with an i-pod listening to happy hardcore or pop music. I deserve that i-pod! And you know what the most fucked up thing is? I'd technically be in the wrong if I beat up those little shits and stole their i-pods.
Madness.
Just because someone has money does that mean they have more of a claim over something than someone who deserves it and would put it to good use, not seeing it as a fashion accessory?

I genuinely, genuinely compare my struggle to that of Israel and Palestine. The palestinians -Me- deserve the land -Cameras, ipod, whatever- but because Israel -Rich,undeserving people- is rich with America backing it up they can assume control.

So, yeah, in the end it felt like I was doing him a favour by running away without paying the rent because I didn't take the camera with me, even though I would put it to better use.

I packed my stuff, left the note and my last thought of my ex-flatmate was
"you lucky, lucky bastard"


Featured Twat

Image hosting by Photobucket
Please note, I have quite a few stories left from sweden that, need to be posted before I write about what is going on now. Will Definitely have one more up by tomorrow.
Google twatting hasn't emerged because I'm out of ideas or stories, it isn't a pathetic extension strategy.
White Kit Kats? FUCK OFF you idealess, desperate pocket fillers.
I need to E-mail my Lla now, that takes priority.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Google Twatting

Image hosting by Photobucket


In the same vein as Google whacking - A game that has been around for a few years. The aim is to enter 2 words into google, without " ", and for it to return only 1 result. This is a googlewhack. The rules are they have to be words in dictionary.com and the site cannot be a word list - I now present Google twatting.

Sick and tired of Google's constant bragging?
That is the most all knowing, all powerful oracle ever to have parked itself on mankinds' doorstep offering billions of possibiities at our finger tips.
That it can offer you satellite images from many areas of the planet making military organisations cower.
That it can even now google and index your entire computer.

Clever google.

Or has Google got too big for its boots?

Deflate Google's ego and twat it!
Make him feel stupid for a change like he has done to all of us who have found ourselves sat in front of his search bar, struggling for something to search for and then, as time passes, feeling more and more hopelessly inadequate and stupid at all the information he can theoretically offer us except that we can't even think of one measly thing.

The rules are the same as Google Whack except the aim is to get a result with 0 items found.
Aha!


Inspired, possiby invented, by my firm, yet supple-bellied comrade, 13twelve . He wanted to go one step furhter and be the actual creator of a googlewhack i.e finding 2 words with 0 hits, then listing it on his site to become a googlewhack. cunning indeed. He enlisted my help and after 15 minutes or so I finally stumbled upon one which I happily donate to him and which I included above.

I intend to create another blog where people can send in images of their Twats.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Aerosol Abuse





This is me last year, whacked out in an anti-perspirant fuelled daze.

Cheap kicks.

No, I tell a lie.

You know how people who snore and are informed about it always outrageously deny it even though they are the person in the worst position for verifying it?

People had been telling me that I sleep with my eyes open, that I look like a dead zombie and it's really eerie for them. This angered me and I accused the accusors of conspiring against me to disrupt my sleep.

Here was their proof.

Sexy, aren't I?

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Quality Quotes: I

This section is designed to repeat words that were once uttered and deemed worthy enough of recording down so that their wisdom and insight might spread, influencing and altering the minds that they meet.
Ideas can spread like fire.
Let us make some fire.

Today I start with perhaps not a monumental quote or life changing words, nonetheless, one that deserves to make it into this section.



To be in fashion
is out when
the new fashion
is in


Yes, this states something that we already know to be true, but it also in a simple, possibly amusing way, perhaps draws our attention to the ridiculousness of this trend. Some people will look at a person's hair cut and go "Oh that was so last year" and the same goes for fashion of clothes and even colour. If that person's hair cut was put 15 years back or 15 years forward it then maybe it would be trendy. How silly it all seems.

I cannot deny that we all judge people from their appearance, some more than others though, anyone who denies this is an all out liar. We judge people on age, on sex, on race and on fashion conciously and sub-conciously. It's what people choose to do with this that matters, to judge or to not, to see through the meaningles outer facade with as little preconception of a person as possible or to think that you can instantly look at a person and decipher:

What music they listen to

What clubs they go to

What films they watch

What shops they go to

What their political persuasion is

You can tell a man by his shoes?

I think not.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Top hat & chain-saw sir?



Oh did I forget to mention the gas mask?


This is psycho Lla who wants to get concentration camp shower time all over you and then give you a quick rub down with her chain-saw. She has dressed up in a stylish top hat to add extra shock value. How can someone from the upper classes ever commit such grave atrocities?

The person who took this photograph deserves a special mention.
What the fuck were you thinking!?
I can understand sometimes how it can be a tough choice...length ways or breadth ways but this shot is a foolish and unforgivable error.
Well done for ruining a potentially great photo.
Don't worry, the chain saw wasn't important...

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Happy Valentines' day?

What a wonderful day.


A day that hundreds of years back probably held some genuine, vaguely significant meaning before it was seized upon by the unrelenting and ruthless greeting card & present industry who twisted and distorted it in their own image, weaving a day that is the same as every other day into an economy boosting justification of their own existence for them and a wallet emptying pit of panic, fear and despair for the rest of the poor sods they hoodwink. At some point in the past these dispicable creatures managed to buy themselves another "special" day in the calendar, giving themselves another opporutnity to lay guilt on the masses, extorting both cash and intense emotions from them.

A day that yes, can leave some couples feeling closer than ever, but can leave other relationships teetering over the edge if one of the parties doesn't present a good enough show to the other, i.e go to enough back breaking and bank emptying endeavours to show the person that they surely must already love by the fact they are in a relationship with them that they do in fact really, really, really love that person.

Genuine Couples who love each other do romantic and meaningful things together as often as they can, not needing someone out there to tell them on exactly what day to appreciate and enjoy each other. The couples out there who need to read a note in a box on their calendars to remind them to be nice to each other for one day out of the year should disband immediately. You are probably together through habit and/or fear of not finding anyone else and they are both disgusting and low reasons.

This is another classic case of us being emotionally forced into complying with a celebration that we are tricked into thinking is somehow entwined with our history and plays a big part in our cultural make-up. The modern notion of Christmas, Mothers' day, Fathers' day, Easter and others that I have failed to mention.

Christmas: let's pretend we care about everyone else for one day and then go back to treating each other like shit.

Oh look, another "special" day, we must buy cards and gifts for our loved ones or that means we don't really care about them and neglect them .


So, if you have a girlfriend you have:
Their Birthday
Christmas
Valentines' day
Relationship anniversary.

That divides into an avergae of every 3 months, a quarter of a year. Aren't company's economic statistics released quarterly?

Those clever foxes.

I'm being kicked out of the library soon, may come back to this.

I wanted to say what about all the people who actually put worth in this day and then receive nothing? How many people does this day leave feeling isolated, alone and unloved? How many suicides go unreported on this day? I can't say for sure it is the most out of the year, but it's probably a contender with ..I wonder..oh yeah, Christmas.

I feel sorry for all the poor guys out there who don't know what's going on and have stupid little girlfriends who cry if they don't get what they want. Stupid girlfriends who want to impress their other silly friends about how they were treated and who will cause untold trauma and headaches for their poor boyfriend if he doesn't deliver the goods. Then there are those girls who say they don't want to celebrate and then have a paddy when they actually receive nothing, like they asked for

I have been fortunate over the years with my choice of girlfriends...sensible people who see these sorts of days as the shams they are. I salute them














Saturday, February 11, 2006

Hara-Kiri Haiku

Not really, just haikus that I wrote a while back when I was frustrated at Uppsala. These aren't an indication of my constant moods or feelings for this place as I am quite happy here. I find it harder to write positive haikus, if it happens I will let you know.




Drinking Beamish Black
From Newcastle brown ale glass
Thought this was Sweden?
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
A testament to my growing frustration at Sweden's seemingly lack of culture. Sometimes you don't even feel like you are in a foreign place, just a bastard child of Britain and America. I was pleased to discover beamish black, not the Newcastle glass though. The price was £5!


Tacky lights drape trees
Tiny snow swirls in the sky
Uppsala´s highlights!
---------------------------------------
---------------------------------------
Sat in a bar called Terrassen which is situated on an upstairs terrace of a building. It looks out over the river, there are various bridges and for some reason a few of the trees are covered in fairy lights. I was disillusioned at this point by the lack of night life in Uppsala and the lack of activities and fun in general.



Empty silent streets
Closed buildings, faceless faces
Friday night, Uppsala
-------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------
Similar to the previous one. The first Friday night I went out here I went to an English pub called Williams. It was kind of annoying to come to Sweden and then discover the best place in the city you live in is an English pub. To be fair, they did the best snake bite & black I have ever sampled, due to he fact they had some classy blackcurrent in a glass bottle me thinks. I went out at 22:30 to have a little spliff and was struck by how dead everywhere was, I didn't walk past one single person. Compare the same time in a palce like Manchester and it was just eerie and I was overcome by melancholy that the majority of Swedes don't know how to have a good night out.



Pop imported shite
Euro disco reigns supreme
Club life, Uppsala
--------------------------------------
--------------------------------------
one night I had 30 minutes to wait for my bus and decided to check out the local club scene. It felt like I had been transported to Rossendale or some tiny, tiny little town that only has 2 clubs and all the hicks who live there go there every Friday and Saturday to get really pissed and pull other hicks. The bouncers outside one club gladly told me about the R+B in the first room and Euro disco in the second.
I left in disgust.
The next club I found only had R+B and was filled with young kids. I think these are the 2 main clubs here and I haven't found or been shown any redeeming ones.

The poorest of schemes

The Swedes seem to have a more hi-tech day to day existence than the island dwelling monkeys of Britain. In the library you are given your own plastic swipe card which you can use at various machines, along with your pin number, to access various services. This includes scanning out your own books in a checkout style way, returning books, as well as being able to book time on the internet and computers.

All buses have not one door but three. Only people coming onto the bus use the door next to the driver, which means no one is pushing past each other to get on or off. The exiting people make use the back two doors. I have had no money for as long as I can remember now and have been walking to town most days. On the way home I wait for people to get off the bus and then run in through one of the back exits and ride home for free.

However, my toes have blisters now from walking and I needed a method to get to town for free in case I am ever in a rush or my toes are too sore to walk. When I come home from town there are always people getting on or off as it is the main stop, when I want to travel to town the back doors are practically always closed and so my previously explained method is ineffective.

On the buses you have a card that you top up at the local depot and this enables you to take 10 trips on the bus. You use this card on a machine at the front of the bus, it reads your card, displays how many trips you have left, and then beeps when you press the card to the machine. When I saw this for the first time I said to Lla:
"I don't understand"
she started to explain the logics of it and I stopped her saying:
"No, I mean I don't understand why people don't just record the beeping of the machine and get on for free."
I received a look that indicated that most people wouldn't think in that way and that it was probably a futile endeavour.

A few weeks later I stumbled across an old style tape recording device (see picture in "my possessions") and instantly fell in love with it. It is quite bulky yet one of the features it boasts about is being slim line. I'm not sure exactly how old it is but it brags a bit further down the body that it has a "FULL AUTO STOP" meaning that when it gets to the end of the tape... it stops. This futuristic recording darling also has a little handle that extends out so you can carry it along like a little briefcase. Perfect.

I made a couple of recordings of the beep, listening to each when I got home. There is so much background noise of me walking, the radio of the bus driver and basically just a lot of static. It sounds fucking ridiculous and is kind of embarrassing. Nevertheless, this stupid scheme has worked for the past 2 days in a row without fail: me holding the tape player, hitting the machine with my card and pressing pause, releasing the din. Every time it happens it gets more and more cringeworthy.

The poorest of schemes.

Friday, February 10, 2006

The end of the swedophile?

My mum has been a complete brain-dead, dick and fucked up my money situation. I had cheques from the Government for £600, all she needed to do was pay it into my account like i asked. Walk into a bank,fill in one little slip and that was all. She'd already wasted time by posting it to me here so i could sign the back. I mean really, why the fuck didn't she just sign it and take it in?

The idiot has been trying to cash it for herself and after repeated e mails telling her not to.
"Oh, they won't let me cash it"
Of course not! I asked you 2 weeks ago to cash it into my account, how the FUCK is it of any use to me if you have the money in your hand?


The time for cashing the cheques has expired and I can't get the money now. £600 disappeared

I'm absolutely fucked now and can't pay my rent , will have to run away from my flat now and have nowhere to go, except back to that fucking shite island where I have no home and have no money thanks to her stupidity.


Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Hella Hellish

Wicked Words: I

Welcome to a regular feature of the show where I, Caterwaul Klink Klonk, present to you a little known, seldom used word that I believe should be resurrected into the realm of everybodys’ everyday tedium.

They are words that will make you wonder how you ever managed to scrape through life without them; words that will confound your friends, dispose of your enemies and show up your alleged superiors for the vacuous, mashed potato brained, sycophantic sacks of sticky, stale wank they truly, truly are.


Wicked word: I

Dipsomaniac
Definition:

A person who has strong urges for alcoholic drink that they cannot control.

Usage:

Becoming disgruntled at those innebriated wretches down at your local drinking pit who boastfully deem it necessary to slip it into the conversation every 5 minutes the amount of alcohol they have thus far consumed?

Why not deal with them in the following manner,

A typical drunken wretch:


“Yeah, he took it round 5 of them and then he....he... God, I’m well pissed me.
Seen that girl’s arse? , I’d like to stick my general in her back bunker and then go to war*. Know whatz I mean?
Yeah, this is my 6th pint no...(pause while he concentrates deeply, counting with the aide of his fingers) 7th now and me and this guy, this fuckin’ guy (the wretch proceeds to put his arm round the man next to him,squeezing him tight, leaning on him for support) drank a bottle of fuckin’ wine on the walk down. Same again tomorrow”


You:

‘Squire, I fear, by your own admission, that you may be a dipsomaniac.’

Wretch:

“You calling me a fuckin’ mental? The last guy who called me mental now drives a wheelchair to work, except work is a centre for mentally brain damaged people and except he can’t drive because he’s so fuckd up.”

You:

‘Sir, I was merely stating that you have a worrying predilection for the joys of fermented vegetable juice’

Wretch:

‘You fuckin’ what?’

You:

‘You like getting slaughtered off your tits’

Wretch:

“oh, yeah, too right, fuck yeah”

You:

‘So you are a dipsomaniac?’

Watch in delight as the conundrum you have now faced him with knocks all the merry, irritating cheer out of this all too common specimen of Englishness. He knows that he does like to drink and that he likes people to know about it, but isn’t being a maniac make him retarded in some way? Doesn’t dipso sound a little bit like dick, especially if you are drunk? He can’t work out whether you have offended him or congratulated him. He now sits slumped in a drunken depressed state of despair for the rest of the evening, devoid of his cocky shenanigans and incapable of discussing his alcohol consumption for fear of being a spacker.

Today you have learnt a new word, you have also won a future battle.


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“I deliver wicked words for yall to consider, these wise words to prize with pride”

Caterwaul Klink Klonk with his “shit” Hip-Hop cap on. Shit as in pure, unadulterated commercial, biggin’ myself up, gangzta, ghetto Hip-Hop shite, not as in “da shit”
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*
This was an inaccurate phrase to use as it is beyond the means of the specimens we are talking about.
“I’d fuck it much” would have been more accurate.
For the sake of spice and because I invented this phrase on the spot and am proud of it, it has been included.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Guestbook Scrawl being sent to God

Religion is sin
I pray for organised religion to be abolished
The catholic church is ineherently evil; it has stifled humanitys' progress for 2000 years & hampered acceptance and truth
If God exists, it is crying
is what I wrote in large writing on the pages of a guestbook designed to house people's prayers to God on a visit to Uppsala's Cathedral earlier today..

Islands of Stocholm being debased by S.l.u.g



I finally threw off the strangling shackles of the tiny town of Uppsala yesterday and took a train to Stockholm. A place which is an actual city, not a lying tiny town hiding behind its Cathedral and University for undeserved status.


Men


Leylla was being an excellent guide today as well as providing some tasty eye candy for me later in the evening. However, I was unable to sample My rightful treat later on as silly little men kept buzzing around her like flies round an open, meditarranean bin containing fizzy drink, banana peel and rotting road kill.

Their level of techniques of attracting a woman were about on par with that of a fly. Any man who actually has some sort of a technique to get women is an instant failure and a joke anyway. They have a set chat up line or phrases and then simply act like a sales man, playing the numbers game. However many doors you knock on, someone's bound to let you in.

They don't see women as real people, someone who you can actualy make a connection with on any personal level. They just see meat that they can stick their meat into.



Culture


We went to the culture centre and this I enjoyed. The photo exhibition of American life, culture from the 60s onwards was inciteful and at times interesting. I remember a very young negro child from Mississippi looking very dapper and stylish in his little suit jacket. aww.

The photos of july 4th were especially humourous. Idotic, ignorant patriotic Americans with their flags, stars and stripes shirts and brandishing their weak, disgusting American lager.
Oh my!
Yes, any display of patriotism worldwide is both disgusting and amusing at the same time. The Americans have developed a special, sickening mastery of this truly bizarre mentality though and when the whole pack of these beasts have an actual holiday to indulge in their irrational fantasies it is really a sight to behold.

The other exhibition focussed on handbags and various displays of sculpted examples. There were some very nice handbags, I cannot deny that. I remember a green, waxy one with a grenade in it as well as a big red telephone bag that could actually be plugged in. They managed to contain their pretentious, arty bull shit justification for their handbags and their innate necessity to a woman's being to just one board of text and I commend them for this also.

I must also commend the catering staff at the centre as well. They left a trolley in the hall with a half bottle of red wine situated on the bottom shelf of which I helped myself to 2 full glasses. The wine was of a medium standard which impressed me. Red wine is one of the higher forms of a very low pleasure, alcohol, and it was a shame I had to down it quickly like it was a bottle of low-grade vodka that had to be guzzled down on a visit to the Vodka wall.


Old town



The old town of Stockholm is fucking mint! Walking around the little alleys and past the beautiful buildings is really a boost for the spirit. Some building are grand, but not to the point of disgusting opulence. I wish I had a cmera so that I could have taken photos for.

soon.....soon

Some stupid fucking FITTA (cunt) decided to build a new town in the place of the old one? In the square by the culture centre the buildings are grey and depressing. What the fuck is that huge bank building? The Mercedes building?
Pretty.... dicks.

Whilst there we wandered into a mental gallery. The artists were all handicapped. Some of it was child like and innocent, there were some paitings worthy of buying. This is a worthy cause I feel. We also went to the modern museum and it was shit. Some rubbish exhibition by some stupid artist called Dick Bengston. "He wowwed the critics by putting unusual objects in his paintings, such as swastikas" This guy was so controversial and would paint a swastika in the corner of some of his pointless painting.
You little shocker you.
This is the kind of tripe that makes me dislike art, bringing out all the "art people" who use fancy art terminology which makes them knowledgable, apparently.



Atmosphere - Debaser


Debaser is a very nice little club actually. It is sort of half dingey and half nice and manages to pull this off well. They had arty, gig posters from bands like "And you will know us by the trail of dead" and "Queens of the stone age" which was pleasing.

The actual canvas art on the wall was kind of tacky, but it wasn't horribly bad and I will fogive them because it did brighten the place up and they had to go for some kind of middle of the road, easy to produce, most people think looks ok kind of deal.

The dj was fucking shite. He was playing the kind of tunes you'd hear in Rock world in Manchester at about 3 in the morning on a friday all nighter when only the pill people are left and want to dance, except rock world play better songs and rock world is kind of shite. Brother Ali came on and started praising this prick. Brother Ali is a waste of time, boring and is only famous because he is an albino.

Considering the cailbre of atmosphere this was a good gig for him. On the whole the gig was ok. He cleverly employed the use of a live band to perform his rhymes over the top and this added a new element, not heard on record and was therefore interesting. Had he performed alone with a dj or just a cd player this gig would have been a disaster, Slug isn't strong enough to perform on his own. I recognised many tunes and I began to get excited by about 3 of them. I was never bored at any point during the gig and give him credit for this. I am glad I Saw him though because like so many performers out there he is an artist that has peaked and is now simply sinking lower and lower with every new release into a world of shit. The fact that he is releasing demos and rarities backs up this fact.

Out of the 4 hip hop gigs I have now seen - Alternative/post, not the gangsta shit you hear all the time- this ranks at number 4, but it still was quite good. Atmosphere is just white trash, though one with a sensitive side and who sometimes is capable of occasionaly phrases of wisdom and insight. He is a 15 year old spotty adolsecent compared to Sage Francis, sole and to a lesser extent Buck 65 who are pioneering, Herculean giants of the genre and piss all over him from cirrus clouds.


I know that the crowd at this gig was better than the one that will be at the roadhouse in Manchester. There was an even mix of sexes here, no cocky dicks but no out and out geeks either.

I have to go now....