Diary of an up and coming sociopath

This has been sitting in my backend (ooh, computing double-entendre!) for some time so let’s get it posted, then later I’ll come back with some more stuff I did, lest it be stricken from the record forever, because christ knows I don’t remember anything if it isn’t written down on the Internet.

One of the weekends following Bristol, Nikki and I went to visit the Family Annett-Baker (There’s three of them now, so that counts as a Family) in Sunny Brighton. Only it wasn’t Sunny. It was fucking windy and raining and shit, which after the horrible heat of the previous week, was fucking great. Exactly the kind of weather I love. I drove down and met Nikki, Relly and (for the first time) Toby in HMV, and then we meandered around Brighton getting soaked. Had dinner at some grill place (I remembered the name. It was called Tootsies. Slang for “toes” as I recall, but I didn’t see any toes on the menu, unfortunately) that was very nice, then we slunk off to a small coffee house called “Star Bucks” - frankly I don’t think it’ll catch on - where we met Paul from a client meeting. And some guy nicked a copy of the Times by reaching in the door, grabbing a paper and running off again, but he did it so quickly no-one could believe it. This is clearly the way to thieve.

It was excellent to see Paul and Relly again. I suspect last time I said I wouldn’t leave it another year, only I think I left it longer this time. So, definitely, this time, I won’t leave it another year, if only because I believe there’s a joint Mother/Son birthday party coming up. Before we left, Relly and Paul proved their insanity by letting[making] me hold Toby. It was like holding a hamster, only one where it would matter a lot more if you dropped it. Toby, to his credit, didn’t do any of the things I hate so much about babies (screaming and vomiting) and he only crapped himself once, which I think is the average for people going out in Brighton. He seemed to like me but what does he know? He’s just a baby! Though he’s already got more charisma than me, and his slightest movement seems to be the subject of scrutiny and praise, so I should probably try and stay on his good side. Though, that said - “He lifted his head up!” “He’s got a tooth!” I mean, frankly I can do all the stuff he can and more but no-one’s even remotely as impressed by my lovable antics. He can’t even stand up and that’s one of the first things I do every morning! Well, on weekdays anyway. All I’m asking for is a little standardisation and continuity in the distribution of praise, and that some people not be discriminated against because they’re not babies. Is that so wrong?