Right...my turn!

I am Rosby the Wonderful, madder than the maddest hatter on the earth. And beyond.

I want to go home and have some toast.

I wish David Tennant would shave that bloody beard off!!!

I hate Ben Gabbot, quiche, rice pudding, war, and George Bush.

I love sausages, spaghetti, church bells, English and my friends...I suppose...

I miss easy times at Primary School.

I fear coffins. There's something about them that freaks me out!

I hear that Tom Thurlow is willing to give £3000 to whoever gives him that silver thing from the Kit Kats that gets you into Big Brother. Weirrrd...

I wonder about the meaning of life, why I live, and how everything started. And what Jake Gyllenhaal is doing at the moment.

I regret buying "Wild Child". Crappest book ever written!

I am not sane, rational or logical. (The latter word contributed by The Mashmeister.) (Tash)

I dance awfully when no one's watching.

I sing every second of every hour of ever day of every month of every year.

I cry whenever I watch Brokeback Mountain.

I write about everything and anything, but never finish any of it.

I confuse people with my random advice and mad statements. (E.G. "My arm is about the size of a...small...fish!")

I need a better memory.

I start writing feeling fresh and energised.

I finish writing this with my back aching and Tash bored beyond belief.

I tag Marie, Lisa, and Anna.

Does that not *supremely rule*? Ha!