Bokelskere.no

Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.

Fenchurch looked at him in astonishment. "What on earth did you do?"
"Well, in the circumstances I did what any redblooded Englishman would do. I was compelled," said Arthur, "to ignore it."
"What? Why?"
"Well, it's not the sort of thing you're trained for, is it? I searched my soul, and discovered that there was nothing anywhere in my upbringing, experience or even primal instincts to tell me how to react to someone who has quite simply, calmly, sitting right there in front of me, stolen one of my biscuits."

Grown men, he told himself, in flat contradiction to centuries of accumulated evidence about the way grown men behave, do not behave like this.

He jammed the brake on this line of thought because it wasn't going to get him any further than it had the last twenty times he'd been over it.
He started again.

Rob McKenna was a miserable bastard and he knew it because he'd had a lot of people point it out to him over the years and he saw no reason to disagree with them except the obvious one which was that he liked disagreeing with people, particularly people he disliked, which included, at the last count, everybody.

There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler's mind.

This bowl was brought to you by the Campaign to Save the Humans. We bid you farewell.