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Sophia jetted out this morning. Or maybe it was this afternoon. I’m not sure. About all I am sure about is that I am exhausted. Or to be more specific, knackered. My body is wracked with pains and its energy levels deeply depleted. I am sexually exhausted. The body might be wasted, but the mind is aglow, suffused in the sweetest memory of time well spent and the achievement of minor miracles. Like, how on earth could she do that when I was busy doing that? And surely this diagram is for fun and noone should seriously contemplate that it could ever be performed and WHOA! There you go. Such things do not happen everyday but as my dear old mother was frequently heard to mumble, “It’s quality not quantity, my love.” And so it most certainly is.

About all I managed today was to cancel my appointment with Balthazar (who readily understood) and to read a little. I’ve found this wonderful new columnist in the local paper who writes with the wit and ease of a Master Wordsmith and whose words appear so well arranged that I begrudge her the fact that there are so few of them. Again though, I hear mother’s words resonate inside my cranium. Her piece today was on the sanctity of human respect for one another and the frequent lack of it. Being as I am, amongst other things, an international arms dealer, people are often surprised to learn that I am a strong believer in such an egalitarian principle but I most certainly am. I have no desire to see members of my fellow species suffer needlessly and through the unthinking actions of others. That is why I only stock the most effective weapons. For example, my explosives are guaranteed to kill cleanly, leaving noone maimed and with a long walk home with only one foot. I am, to the arms dealing world, the Harrods of Hurt, the Da Vinci of Death etc. etc. I do what I can.


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