It’s Saturday, and I’m at work. Grim. Still despite the swearing and cursing and muttering “bastard fucking network” and “shitfucking machine” at various bits of computer hardware, there is one advantage. It’s sad and small, but it’s keeping me sane.

You see, I can’t sing. I know this. I’m not sufficiently stupid or evil to inflict my singing on anyone, unless I’m at the satge of drunk where I’m seconds from passing out anyway.

But I have an entire office building to myself, this morning. So I’ve got Nick Cave playing at immense volume and I’m singing along as loudly as I like.

I said it was small and sad, didn’t I?