13.5 Chaucer

Usual sort of Thursday; double dose of French with halitosis. Wouldn’t be so bad, but Brown (whose name suggests his smell) sits a little behind me – I’m hemmed in by foul odours on two sides. I do not purport to smell “fresshe as a dayeseye” but someone should tell Brown he’s wrong in thinking that deodorants are “not worth a flye”. Sorry about the Chaucer bits, but I’m really into the language at the moment.
Learned the great news that Python is to receive a showing of the last series next Thursday. Perhaps it’ll give me a chance to analyse why I laugh so much. Thus far I have pinned it down to a hate of America we have in common; the superb shades of facial expression and well timed change in tone of voice and – naturally – the silliness and inability to take the heaviest of subjects seriously.

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