20 May 2013


And the beat goes on - man the pali-sades!

I am trying to clean my pool, laborious sweeping and coolie work.

What do I find this morning? Sordid plastic bag with the wrong sort of loo paper - that useless soft stuff that hath no tread on  the upsweep. Fortunately, un-soil├Ęd for the nones, altho' I'm not sure that 'fluid' in one of the plastic bottles is lighter stuff rather than Robbo fils'golden dawning urine.

Around the deep end of the pool floor - too distant for them to have tossed it from the fence - ominous plastiques a la Motolov cocktails with incompetent twiggery.

Honestly, for shop steward of the Golden Eye Corfu chapter, Robbo has much to learn in the bomb-making department.

My lawyer was shocked enough at the posters arrayed along the fence; as partner in the Dendias law firm, I trust she'll show these to her boss, the eponymous Nicolas.

The jeers and insults continue, of course.

Thank God my mother didnt live to see this desecration.

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