Sharon's here. She's doing mum's hair. I don't exactly know what she's doing, but it involves bacofoil. She looks like an extra from Star Wars. Sharon says she'd like to be a mobile hairdresser one day. She says the world will be her oyster when she's learned to drive. Mum claims that oysters don't agree with her. She says dad bought her some for Valentine's Day. Apparently he got them from *Asian Pete. He said they were an aphrodisiac. Mum vehemently opposes this claim. She says that spending the night pebble dashing the toilet with various shades of shit isn't her idea of amour.
*He's not Asian, and he's not named Pete.
Dave's here. He's polished off the Jaffa Cakes again. He claims they're better than sex. I wouldn't know. Gran says Dave is lovely. She just told mum that she thinks of him as the grandson she never had. Hello?
Dad is reading his book (1000 Amazing Facts). He just informed me that 80% of a person's intelligence is acquired from their mother. It would appear that my dreams of becoming a world famous particle physicist are dead. As dead in fact as the chicken that mum is currently attempting to defrost with her Nicky Clarke turbo powered hair dryer.
Dave's weird girlfriend, Sharon, is here. She's currently channeling spirits. Mum and gran appear to be completely taken in by the whole charade. Neither have questioned her dodgy Irish accent, let alone the somewhat pivitol fact that Sir Terry Wogan isn't even dead yet. Idiots!
Gran says that people seemed happier during the war, even though they had less. Commandeering the bacon from her breakfast is simply my way of helping her to recapture the spirit of those joyful times.
Gran just asked Dave if he thinks there'll be any riots this year. She says she could do with a new tv and an iPad. Mum has never quite forgiven me for not taking part in the various uprisings last year. Dave eventually acquired the Dyson that she hankered for from Asian Pete. Apparently Asian Pete is not named Pete. Nor is he Asian. Dave says it's a cover. I'm glad I don't move in Dave's circles. Life is confusing enough for an amateur particle physicist.
LATEST:
Gran's on Twitter. I'm not sure, but I think she's attempting to incite a public disturbance.
I've spent much of today online. Myself and a few other enthusiasts have been discussing the difficulties facing physicists who are actively searching for the Higgs Particle. Gran says I should lighten up. She says that when she was my age she was sleeping around and taking drugs. Apparently gran gave birth to mum in the middle of a field during a Jimi Hendix guitar solo. 'All around the watchtower?' I asked. 'No,' replied gran, 'I just told ya. In the middle of a field'. Finding the Higgs Particle should prove a breeze in comparison to finding gran's brain.
Dave's girlfriend, Sharon, claims that the lingerie he's bought her for Valentine's Day is more of a gift for himself than for her. She's talking shit. Dave would look ridiculous in her underwear.
Gran says the 'Internet generation' don't know they're born. I'm in the process of proving her wrong by retrieving my birth certificate from a reliable ancestry website.
The 'Innovations' catalogue arrived this morning. Mum has ordered a vibrating personal massager for her bad back. To be quite honest I didn't even know she had a bad back.
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