DITHERING IDIOT

This one. That one. Erm. That one. This one. That one? Him? Them? This one.

UMM.

If only every decision was as irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Not that there is a grand scheme.

Then again maybe it's not that irrelevant. After all, every other time I've been down that lane all the doors have been shut. This time three were open; two contained boring things like Beemers and big piles of cardboard boxes but this one contained nothing but a floorful of mess, an old, yellowing monitor and a nice sunlit window. I could have sneaked in but there was a gentleman extracting another car thing from a nearby doorway who glanced at me with suspicion. It's a shame there isn't some sort of government directive which requires that a certain proportion of backstreetish city centre buildings lie fallow at any time for unimpeded investigation. Perhaps a kind local philanthopist could exploit that scheme if it comes to fruition.

BAH. It's already ten of the sodding clock and now I can't go out for a walk as QI has just come on.