Maggie's alive & well

Bloody hell, the spirit of Thatcherism is alive and well. The two-bedroom apartment the McCann family rented in Praia da Luz where Maddie was snatched from went on the market for £75,000 last week, just half its actual value. A British couple offered the asking price within days and they have already completed the deal, according to Portuguese newspapers. The UK Sun said the market rate for similar properties was £150,000. Some audacious Northerner with an eye for a nasty bargain got in there, regardless of the horrible going-ons. The same week that a Francis Bacon 'self portrait' (never quite got the concept of that, it's a bit masturbatory isn't it?) sold for €32 million smackaroonies & my landlord put the rent up by £40. Money really is a type of sickness, although a brand of malaise that makes life easier. I don't mind the landlord putting up the rent a tad though. This 3-bed house in a lovely area of Belfast is still a lot cheaper than my 1-bed 380 sq ft. apartment was in Dublin. Ownership of property no longer matters a toss to me; quality of life is what's important... waking up somewhere decent, having space to think/live, enough room for friends to stay and the odd orgy of course (I have a red canopy 4-poster bed, yum!) In a strange mood overall this week. I should oft to bed now for lusty dreams involving cling film & melted white chocolate. Will report back tomorrow on my findings. Verdant frogs need to get their beauty sleep too. PS. There's a frog & toad study group (for real) in Australia...www.fats.org.au who profess to have a genuine interest in frogs and tadpoles, so at least I know I can rest easy in the knowledge that barmy strangers care for me. They even have a dedicated Frogwatch Helpline which is more than Victim Support gets in Ireland, so it makes you think. The group reckons there's a big decline in global frog numbers related to climate changes (yawn, what else!?) and widespread atmospheric pollution. I think it's more a case that we're all fucked, whether you eat monosodium glutamate-laden cup-a-soups, have unprotected sex with 196 people in one year or holiday on a geographical fault line. Which brings me back to the beauty of going to bed and switches off for a few hours. Ribbid. Croak. Burp.