Glynsky looking anxious at wembley stadium
I would like to formally apologize from my prolonged absence from the Diablog, but things have been happening at such a rate that I have had no time to contribute to the World’s Rudest, Bitchiest, Blog.
So what has been happening during my inexcusable absence without leave?
Many of you wrongly assume I am just an idle sod, with little to do but plan halcyon hedonism holidays in Hertfordshire (that’s easy for you to say…Oh no it...)
Those of you ‘in the know’ are aware of my part time activities within the SAS, and therefore little explanation is needed as to what I have been up to.
It started when I received the call at midnight from The Head of M.I.9 (It used to be MI6 but that’s inflation for you)
The chief of M.I.9 goes under the code name of 'Engine Room' and it was he who secretly briefed me about Operation 'Glynsky'
Why do these people always call you at midnight when one is just settling down in front of Channel X For a bit of R & R?
The end result of this clandestine late night conversation was my immediate dispatch to organize the insurgencies in Tunisia and Egypt and most recently, a bit of uncompleted liberating in Libya.
It really has been all go in the last few weeks, but I am now home ready to keep my end up, in the vain hope of keeping the Glynsky under some sort of restraint.
Even our European CEO was forced to publicly announce that he was vaguely missing the Diablog’s counter balance, and that he was struggling to keep control of Glynsky on his own.
This is not at all surprising, as I know from past experience that it takes two people working around the clock to keep him in a semi dormant state.
His recent post ‘I miss Pete sexually ’ had me in tears and I was quickly on the first RAF plane out of the Libyan desert, having pushed aside wailing women and children.
We spent most of the flight cheering on Birmingham City as they dispatched the 4/1 On favorites Arsene, from Wembley.
One can only hope that Glynsky will retire hurt and leave us all in peace until he makes some sort of recovery.
However I am not one to gloat, and I dedicate the song below to the memory of what’s left of his team’s spirit.
In the meantime I await the usual boring vitriolic responses to my home coming.