It has been a strange couple of days. I have wrestled with a small chest of drawers. I have bought all the second hand bed linen in South Leicester, and I have whirled around from sun up to sun down, when my diary was very explicit that I was not at all busy. I would take issue with it, except that I am the one who fills it in.
Anyway. I am off to the pub quiz in a moment, where I will fail to remember the answers to many things, and see how many spontaneous Gary Lineker answers I can come up with. I have also failed to read the news today, so there will be no even vaguely amusing takes on current affairs for our team name. Were it not for the fact that I have a new coat to show off, I feel I would be better off staying at home and giving the others a much fairer chance at winning.
Before I go, I must regale you with the sordid and entirely unsavoury nature of the things that the Amazon Vine programme have offered me to review today.
As a reviewer, I get a regularly updated list of items available to me to choose from. There are conditions I must fulfil to keep being offered them. It’s not just an all you can eat buffet of the review world. However, as long as I fulfil those conditions I can pick what I like from the list.
The list is, according to Amazon, hand picked for me and represents the close attention that Amazon pay to my buying habits.
I have always thought this was a little suspect. This suspicion reared its ugly head on the day I was offered a 2 kilo bag of guinea pig food and/or some Tena Lady incontinence pads.
Today though, Amazon have surpassed themselves. I have been offered anal lube and/or a collapsible shovel.
I have already started on the bones of the novel in which both of these items come into play. It will be a murder mystery set in a dominatrix’ dungeon in which burial under the patio is de rigeur for all customers.