Going Viral

Dear Dobson,

I am sorry to hear the filthy cur has launched a full-on attack.  He is a cunt.  I hope the magic pills will force him to release his locked jaw and give you some respite.

On top of the psychological shit, the physical never helps.  I am also suffering from something 'viral' - at least I've little doubt that's what the doctor will describe it as when I attend my 2 o'clock appointment this afternoon.  I fucking hate going to the surgery; still I've procrastinated about it since last Friday's sweat-fest so perhaps I should simply bite the bullet and get on with it.

After missing the first two series, I have finally taken your recommendation on board and started watching The Killing.  You know me so well Dobson.  I am enjoying watching people who cannot relate to anyone except corpses, it's right up my strasse (that was for our German friends) and I completely understand why it's on your list of good things.  Speaking of your list, there are many more things to put on it but I know the Black Dog obscures, blinkers and places seeds of doubt.  I reiterate he is a cunt.

Date number two has been arranged for Monday.  Dinner this time.  Second dates are very much like the second viewing of a house; a real test to see if all the things that impressed you first time round still do.  An opportunity to check for subsidence, dry rot, dodgy wiring and rising damp.  Although a bit of dampness could be perceived as a good thing on a second date.

In the meantime I am still receiving 'interesting' (read soul-destroying) mail on the dating website.  I received a gem from a chap whose profile picture shows his one good eye looking at you, while the other eye appears to be looking at something over your left shoulder.  All credit to him, he wrote a very nice mail, but alas there were more pictures to peruse...  The one showing him wearing a set of emerald green silk pyjamas made my eyes bleed.  This is my life.

Frankie