Wow, what a busy little bee I am.

A busy bee. What the hell sort of saying is that? Bees, honestly, aren't that busy. The only time they do any work is in Summer, which really is the dossiest time of year, and they have 2000000000000 mates to help them build a bee-hive. And what's so good about that? It takes them four weeks to build something that can be destroyed with one good kick.

Across the road, a group of about 10 people have built an actual house in a matter of something like 4 months. It would take many kicks to knock that baby down. So, in conclusion, the phrase 'busy little bee' is now no longer in use. It has been replaced with 'busy little Churchod's Builders Lt. construction engineer."

Much better, I think you'll agree.

Take that, you fucking bees.



Hey, wait a second. I have just gone off on a tangent. What's a tagent? I don't know... I'm rubbish at Maths. Oh crap... Maths revision.



Anyway. Today I got up at some ungodly hour... 9.00. Shudder. I got dressed, got on my totally buggered up bike and went rowing until 12.45. Ish.

I then cycled home, on my totally buggered up bike, complaining loudly about it at the top of my voice. I also noticed several broken car-windows. Perhaps there is a gang of window-breakers going about the mean streets of Lower Sunbury? I know not. I filed it away in the incident cupboard of my brain for further study.



I got home, wandered about a bit, messed up my sister's computer by turning it on (it's an old model) and then wandered upstairs. I did a WHOLE HOUR of Chemistry revision, and am going to do some Biology now. Ok, soon. Ok, in the distant future. Later on. After dinner. Tomorrow. Evening.

Ok, fine. I have no plans on doing any Biology, despite the fact that my amazing revision timetable tells me that I have some scheduled today.

What does my schedule know? It's an inanimate object. Without me, it wouldn't even exist. It does less work than bees. Ha ha! I have broken forth from the rules and contraints of the schedule, which has kept me a slave so long! I might start a rebellion against revision schedules. I'll be like a modern day version of William Wallace, except in the Hollywood adaptation I won't be played by Mel Gibson.



Because he'll be dead.



And in conclusion: James Miles-Lambert is a lazy tosspot.



Thank you, and goodnight.



Today's Weapon for killing zombies: Zombees. Bees... that have turned Zombiferous! I bet they'd do even less work than they do anyway, the lazy cunts.