31 May 2006
Uh oh, spaghettio
Disaster! We're a man down, and it's only 13.15. And the man in question is the most crucial to all operations, the general, the bigwig, the mother. Dum dum duuuuuum! Currently at casualty, return time unknown (could be anywhere between half an hour and half a millenia, knowing our hospital) this ship is sinking fast. Left to our own devices, God knows what could happen to the organisational nightmare that is the garden party. We're headless chickens without our mother hen to guide us, delegate, and to generally keep order. At the risk of sounding dramatic, we're dooooooomed! At least the gazebo is looking jaunty.