An evening round at Ryan’s, because the poor bastard is unwell again. Pissing about divining the future for his “Book of Answers”, a book with a load of vague (and indeed, not so vague) answers to any question one might put it. Now on the one hand, I am a sane and rational human being who knows that this is a load of old bollocks, but when it *consistently* produced (different) answers to my questions that basically said “you’re going to die alone and unloved – you bollocksed up your one chance, mate”, well, while I don’t believe it, because I’m not stupid enough to think that a collection of pen and ink can tell me anything about what happened yesterday, never mind tomorrow, it’s still the sort of thing that lodges somewhere and has me thinking “what if that were true?” and generally indulging in all the cliched single-person’s-neuroses.

Bugger.