Ok ok ok ok!

Ok ok ok ok!

A call to arms
A call to arms

HEY!

Get back to work.

Many people have expressed this urgent imperative in person.  Some through email, some through comments on the blog, more through casual disdain and scornful glares over a pint glass.

But it was old man Bock himself who set me straight the other night in Nancy Blake's after retiring to the front bar.

I'm sick of looking at that fool Flatley's name. At first it was annoying. Now I want to puke every time I refresh your stupid page looking for [*indistinct*…probably moral guidance?] and that irritating headline appears. If you don't get back to work [you *unt] then I'LL [*ucking] WRITE SOMETHING FOR YOU. How do you like that??

Well, I didn't like that idea so much. So here I am. Are you happy now? Are you?

To the rest of you I'll say this: Although I hate people who love to tell me how terribly busy and important they are ( 'Oh, I didn't even have time to turn around' [What!? Why did you need to turn around?] ), it has indeed been a busy and stressful Christmas for Mr Darwin and his faithful army of researchers, fact-checkers, typists, editors, and lowly copy-boys.

We needed the break. And as Bock has observed, I–unlike The Master–enjoy a real life outside the Blogosphere; and I shouldn't be ashamed of it. But it's been six or seven weeks and that should be plenty time to recharge the batteries.

So now I'm turning the taps back on. If this pleases you, feel free to add your expression of relief in the comments section below. Otherwise feel free fellate yourself.

Yours respectfully,

(signed in his own hand)

Mr Darwin, esq.

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