Who's there? The Grammar Police. Get to flying fuck you shower of twats. I made that one up meself you know? There was fuck all else to do in Stalag forty bastard five was there? They've been away on yet another fucking holiday leaving me to near starve to bastard death down at "the health farm" as they laughingly fucking call it. Then to cap it all, I'm whisked off for a fucking hair cut the minute they get back, just to add insult to fucking injury. I could fucking spit, I really could. Still there was a nice little girlie Border Terrier in there called Rosie. She was only 2 as well. What are you looking at me like that for? Two is legal in doggie terms. Needless to say, progress has been somewhat static in terms of glider construction this past few weeks. Watching me like fucking hawks they are. Just 'cos I tried to escape a couple of times. The tight bastards. I've managed to lose me name tag down at the "health farm" though, so next ti