I imitate the Statue of Liberty at work sometimes.

For fun.

If said statue was a cross-eyed raver.

Shortly after this was taken, M rescued me and took me to the (terrifying) local pub which has been refurbished - if not tastefully - then at least in tones of clean biscuit velour. It's wrong that this pub is so clean now, the regulars are revealed as if newborn. Although nobody was crying into their pint, it was still relatively early, and when I rolled past after finishing work some hours later, normal service had been resumed. The most disturbing thing I saw was the gleaming heads of new screws, applied to the spindles of chairs that were probably retired in a prompt and uncompromising manner, smashed over somebody's back or head in a bar room brawl that's straight out of a spaghetti western. Most upsetting then, that this is possibly such a regular occurrence that buying new chairs is out of the question, and instead they'd just fix the ones they had.