Apathy Is Me

There are only so many ways to describe apathy.

I see the fragrant Ms. Shetty is to run in the London Marathon. And there I was hoping she would burst upon our TV screens, simply dazzling us with her talent whule compelling TV producers to create intricate drama woven around complex characters. Well, one can dream. Instead Ms. Shetty is following in the footsteps of someone she despises – Ms. Goody.

I ate a little more than I intended to thanks to my World War 2 veteren neighbour: Doug. He had gone out specially to buy me a vegetarian bakebite. I was grateful for the effort so I savoured every bite. He really is a compulsive food-pusher. He’ll be standing outside school
gates plying its pupils with fattening food before long. I stayed all morning until my doctor’s appointnment. I read the Mirror aloud to him, interspersing it with snide comments of my own. ‘How can you buy thisthing?’ He said it used to be a socialist paper.

I said ‘Not any more. It’s just a celebrity obsessed rag!’ Anyway, we had the most fun ripping Tony Parson’s column apart. All those words and I still don’t get what he stands for.

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