The Silver Fox

Day 37 in captivity. As if drinking from a dog bowl wasn’t demeaning enough, now the so-called Vigilante is torturing me with his jazz trumpet solos. SIRS training never covered this…

Receiving a stern reprimand from a stroppy woman with a strong Northern Irish accent, the Vigilante is transported back to that time he was bollocked by the school headmistresss for stealing from the tuck shop…

Comfy Sofa Boys II : Even Comfier

Happy Halloween kids. Don’t do anything Uncle Aiden wouldn’t do…

…and now I have a protege.

Fighty.

The Vigilante sat on the cold steel steps. He was brooding again, turning the question over and over in his mind. Nothing about it made any sense and nothing he or anyone in the team could do was going to change it. Acceptance had never been his strong suit but there was a first time for everything… and maybe in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter. But deep down he knew that every time he looked at his shoes he would be irrationally angry that the damn side colour extended onto part of the sole that should clearly be white.

Hmmmmmm.

wasn’t me, honest

So, do I go for the dark black tactile-neck or the slightly darker black tactile-neck?

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

Spends evening picking Thames muck out of phone’s charging port

…. grumble grumble London weather…. grumble… gun’s all wet… grumble…

All the PMCs say I’m pretty spry (for an old guy)