Sunday afternoon, and little Andy is mucking about on his tricycle. Maybe he'll manage two wheels (with stabilizers, no doubt) in the future, but for the moment, three will be safer.
Oh, and Andy, put on your Tard Helmet.
Bonus - Bye-Bye Mickey.
A few months ago, I had a suspicion that there was a mouse in my house. Odd little movements catching my eye, but no real evidence. Clearly the working of a drug-addled mind. Plus, surely Mr Reg, the cat, would have dispatched any mousy miscreant.
Today, while hoovering down the back of the sofa, I encountered this.
Poor Mickey. Squashed flat and suffocated under my flatulent arse. A fate I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Except, perhaps, Donald Trump.
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