Thou shall not pass

Fergus the Fish finger and Thumper, quencher of rabbits, silently engage in eyeball warfare.

Today's News: Sam's Mohican fell before the first hurdle, I grumped at poor Tess again and Dave is away aurora borealis (too tired for spell check) chasing as we approach midnight, thanks to that pesky Brian Cox and the sun's recent cheeky wee corona mass ejection (spelling, pfft) or hotspot ejaculation, as I prefer to call it. Perhaps everyone else is shattered this week. I can't get out of bed for work, sofa lard zombie in the evening, and inability to go to bed early to redress the situation. It's now 3 minutes to tomorrow, work in a few hours.