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Death of a thousand cuts
Compliments of the fucking season to the bus driver who saw me trying to catch his bus, waited all the time I was stuck at the pedestrian crossing, then running across the road, and then sprinting towards his bus before closing the door in my face and driving off to sit at the red lights ten yards away earlier. Ah, public transport...
Undaunted, I went back into the Haunted Bookshop where a shelf load of Doctor Who Target novelizations fell on my head. "Dying this way would be the ultimate irony," I said to the nice young man who helped me regain my dignity. "Oh," he replied jauntily, "I can think of more ironic ways to go!" Trust me, mate, you can't.
Undaunted, I went back into the Haunted Bookshop where a shelf load of Doctor Who Target novelizations fell on my head. "Dying this way would be the ultimate irony," I said to the nice young man who helped me regain my dignity. "Oh," he replied jauntily, "I can think of more ironic ways to go!" Trust me, mate, you can't.
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Head is fine. Dignity less so, LOL!