Eureka!

The Ours realised last night that Lovejoy is the Rasputin of the antiques world.

It could be the codeine

In between episodes of Lovejoy I’ve felt inspired to compose this poem. Please excuse its powerful symbolism but I cannot bring myself to edit the contents of my heart.

Ode to Lovejoy

Oh!
Dealer of antiquities
Seducer of countless women
Detector of antique crime
Breaker of fourth wall
Wearer of mullet
Sporter of permatan
Displayer of chest hair
Carrier of large purplish under eye bags
Would you appraise my Gainsborough?

[The End]

Lurgy

The dreaded lurgy has struck our little flat in the sky. We're taking turns to moan and clutch at our big congested heads and weak aching bodies. (There's no use being ill if you can't be melodramatic.) On the plus side we have plenty of painkillers and lashings of Lovejoy.