Somebody, who won't be named, has taken over my computer.
Somebody, who won't be named, has banished me to inane Sunday television and studying the garden in the rain with a mug of coffee and a damp cigarette.
Somebody, who won't be named, should have researched and written her archaeology thesis, due on Thursday, weeks ago.
Somebody, who won't be named, has prevented me from writing the most heartfelt blog today about Palestinian Suicide Bombers and Morroco Al Qeada Terrorists and the BBC's Top 100 Favourite Book Awards.
Somebody, who won't be named, has a lot of research to go yet.
Somebody, who won't be named, is frowning over my shoulder and looking very impatiently down my right ear.
Somebody, who won't be named, is about to pull the telephone connection from the back of