Fuck me, me Dad brought me home another parcel AND another letter last night from those wonderful people at Thomas Bell, the leading fertiliser merchants in the whole of the world! At this rate I might have to get meself a little desk set up with an in tray and everything. I was shaking like a shitting dog when I opened it to find another box of 50 pigs ears! That's enough to last me a week or two, and will help fuel my "dig for victory". I haven't bothered too much with the tunnel this week to be honest, it's been too fucking hot hasn't it? Sweating me little doggie bollocks off with this bastard fur coat on all day I am. Not that me Mum & Dad give a fuck like. Anyway, the nice people at Thomas Bell seem to think that it's probably OK if I go and live with them when I get out of here. They could probably do with a bit of security muscle on site like. I can handle meself me you know. It's a terrier thing. I mean I'm more Barry McGuigan than the