SO TIRED

Monday night. Made juvenile schoolboy error of starting to watch Lewis in bed. He wasn't in bed, you understand. I was. Anyway, I made it as far as the first adverts before starting to snore. Mrs Backroads watched it all and doesn't want to watch it again. Doh!

Last night. Started to watch the Bionic Woman in bed. She wasn't in bed, you understand. Which is a shame. Anyway, made it to second adverts before nodding off.

Tonight, I'm going to attempt to catch up with Lost.

TONIGHT'S THE (LADIES) NIGHT

If you were at last night's Neil Young show at the Hammersmith Odeon, I was the arse who shouted "Oi! Atomic Mutton! Sit the fuck down!" at the three dozy birds dancing in the aisles and blocking the view for half the circle.

Tip jar's below.

WELL IT'S NOT RAZZLE

Right then, cheesemonkeys, I've been Blogwhipped by Kid Afmip. Here's the deal:

Find the nearest book and type out sentences six, seven and eight from page 123.

I can do that:

The distillery, with its curiously anthologous architecture, is in a very visible spot on the road with a heavy tourist traffic, but relatively distant from any other distilleries. Its regional appropriation to the western Highlands is supported by its being close to a sea loch. "We are a coastal distillary" insists manager Colin Ross, standing in front of the mighty mountain.

It's from Michael Jackson's Malt Whisky Companion and relates to 'Ben Nevis' as produced by Ben Nevis Distillery Ltd.

FYI, its house style is:

Fragrant. Robust. Waxy fruitiness. Tropical Fruit. Oily, a touch of smoke. Restorative or book-at-bedtime.

So now you know.

There's no point me nutmegging anyone else, cos no-one reads this anymore.