Andy's Glasses

Did you ever read ‘American Psycho’? Its one of the very few books I started and in a very un-Mastermindish way, I didn’t finish. Brett Easton Ellis’ tale of a sick yuppy puppy. A highly successful banker in New York who in his spare time liked to torture and kill women. The book was a cross between the Goldman Sacks handbook and the power-tools brochure from B&Q. The ‘hero’ used all manner of increasingly sick and brutal ways to kill his women, lured to his appartment by his good looks and platinum Amex card. Chain saws, power drills, hedge trimmers, even one of those really annoying leaf-blowers, all used to cause maximum pain and suffering on his victims. Sick fucking dude. Sick fucking book. Unless your name is Rurik Jutting. Which at first I thought was a medical condition curable only by orthopedic intervention.

But was this man, who brutally murdered and butchered two lovely women in his own home, a sad case of life imitating art? Or just more quite compelling evidence that all investment bankers are closet psychos and thus are all a similar tragedy waiting to happen? In fact all bankers seem to be thus afflicted. Its probably genetic. The same DNA that requires you to live your life as a parasitic bottom-feeder making billions at the expense of absolutely everyone else, that commands a greed culture not otherwise seen except in sharks, that DNA creates a desire to mangle up the flesh of women. In which case forget ISIS, we need to worry about bankers. Eat one today. Save the planet. And start with the ex-pats; the most dangerous of all.

And no sooner did I mention my new-found love of Bournemouth FC, stated right here, just 3 days ago, a team I’d never heard of until 3 weeks before, than they go top of their table. They are Championship Champions. For now at least. And in football, as in life, ‘now’ is all that matters. How could this happen? A team previously only famous for ‘being near where Harry Rednap lives’ has vaulted the expectations of their competitors and gone to their rightful place at the summit. Poised, in just a few short 6 months, to make the final leap to stardom, fame and fortune that is the Premiership. Of course, a lot of water must travel under the pier before that moment should come, but I’m confident my newly-promoted 7th best favorite team in my whole world can do what needs to be done.

Must be better than going to Arsenal and suffering all that disappointment.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

If the Republicans win control of the Senate in the up-coming mid-term elections in the States, then they will control everything, already enjoying a majority in the House of Representatives. Leaving Barak Obama, as a Democrat President, in a rather sorry position of not being able to pass any motions. Political constipation. He would become a ‘lame duck’ president. When he heard this expression he asked: ‘is that like a birdie?’ And went out to play more golf. It could always be worse. He could have Nick Clegg.

Over here we’re going to get ‘virtual id’. Having shied away from ID cards as a form of invasion of privacy for decades, we’re now going to use on-line government schemes to prove identity securely and safely. Until some Westminster mandarin leaves a print-out of everyone’s secrets and lies in a briefcase on a bench in St James’ Park, of course, but that won’t happen. This is safe. Secure. Right. And ya know what: we need it.

Every time I have dealings with any kind of financial institution they want the same stuff. A utility bill. Which I haven’t received since coal was delivered in sacks. All done on monthly direct debits. Then they want a ‘bank statement’. Do it all online. Haven’t received a bank statement in a decade. Could probably print one off for you? Oh, not good enough, hmmmm. And I’ve been moaning for years that none of these requirements are in any way applicable to now. To where we are and how we pay for stuff. Yet it has endured. Until today. When they’re gonna stop all that shit and do it properly with what will doubtless be the most unimaginable nightmare to set up; passwords, special phrases, secret numbers, retinal scans, bloodwork, rectal examinations… but then: wow! You’re Andy… (3 second pause)… yes, you are; that is now officially, governmentally confirmed. You do not even need to look in the mirror, you are definitely Andy.

And all it will ‘cost’ in real terms is a complete loss of privacy. Because they’ll know your bank details, your mortgage details, your lawyer’s details, they can link it up to your Oyster card and see where you go, they can find out how much you put on Amex in Waitrose shopping for groceries last week, they’ll know which books you downloaded onto your kindle, which movies you booked to see, what football team you support, for whom you voted on Celebrity Big Brother and how deep you ran the bath last Sunday.

So yet again, the question: do we lose too much, do we enter the realm of Big Brother, just for the sake of expedience? Big question late on a tuesday,

Enjoy the rain

A xxxx

Mauricio Pottechino, Spurs esteemed head coach, can understand the frustration of Spurs fans because ‘we are still 3 points off the Champions League places’. We’re also 5 points off the relegation places, thanks only to a rather messy win at Villa Park yesterday. But Mauricio’s cup is indeed half full, and that’s not counting the other cups. The Primark Bank of Bengal League Cup and the Europa Other Cup. He is veritably runneth over with cups.

We (notice, following my threats of abandonment just yesterday, my team have now become first person once more, my blood, my brothers, my life) played brilliantly against Villa. Ok, we didn’t. We were shit and I’m reverting to a place of delusionment and optimism following my manager’s words of encouragement and ‘positives’. We won. 2 set pieces. The first that Villa forgot how to defend at the far post, and the second which took a ‘mild’ deflection on the way in. Fortunately though, they both still counted. And yes, Villa had to give us a one man advantage to even get that far. But that’s fine. Christian Benteke must learn that you can’t go around being violent on a football field and get away with it. Unless you’re wearing a Manchester United shirt. Then ya can.

Our team is worthy of consideration. The most positive thing you can say about our back four is that there are indeed four of them. I counted. At a time when Younis Kaboul was actually present, mind and body, on the pitch and hadn’t drifted to thoughts of whether his Virgin Galactic flight will ever come good. Well he must have been thinking of pretty serious things whilst repeatedly losing the plot in the first half.

Then we have the liabilities. Capoue. Even the once-reliable Vertongen. Eric Lamela, who came on as a sub. And does two things. He is a superb attacking midfielder. Classy, cool, concise, considered. Then he’s a dangerously bad defensive midfielder; wasteful, risky and a penalty-magnet in the wrong sense. He gives them away. Them and free-kicks in dangerous places. Yet he is capable of making the ‘killer pass’ through a defense. A wonderful skill that Ericsson once possessed but seems to have left it in Denmark last summer. Soldado plays a clever ball too. Which is not his main job. But more a part-time hobby as his main job, that of striker, is a bit on the quiet side at the moment.

Emmanuel Adebayor is Emmanuel Adebayor. There’s nothing more needs to be said about his goals, his lack of goals, his skill, his stupidity, his brilliance. He is what he is. You always know what you’re going to get with Adebayor. Which is never knowing what you’re gonna get.

And then there’s our (new) Harry. The Kane one. And Harry scores goals. Not usually in the league, but that’s only because he doesn’t normally play in the league matches. And he brings enthusiasm, movement, endless running, maximum effort and quite often, the goals that result from such hard graft. And we love him. He’s even got a proper name. ‘Arry Kane. Its a Roy of the Rovers name, its an England team circa 1949 name. Its as British as Chicken Tikka Massala. And although Harry has what my mate Spurs Paul once described as: ‘the first touch of a rapist’ (no insult to Robin van Persie, who was acquitted on all charges), and he lacks finesse, we love him. Particularly as we are not awash with goalscoring options of late.Damien Camolli decided that he wasn’t prepared to ‘waste’ any of that 100 million quid on ‘just’ strikers, and he knows best.

The Manchester derby? The hateful against the hated? Who gives a shit? Awful game marred only by a truly fantabulous goal.

Happy(ish) Monday

A xxxx

Its a shitty day here in London. Dull and wet and wetter and then more wet. And for ‘wet’ read: ‘no tennis’. Which is awful. Someone should invent indoor tennis. Oh they have. And I don’t like that either. So what does that leave? It leaves football. That’s what it leaves. Lots of football. And most of that horrible too.

I mean, who wants Chelsea to win? Yet it doesn’t seem to stop them. Nothing seems to stop them, last ditch goals from Robin Van Persie notwithstanding. I don’t even want Newcastle to win, but it doesn’t seem to stop them doing it either. Because if all the teams who are playing really badly start playing well, then where will that leave Spurs? At the bottom of the pile, that’s where. From our ‘forth place finish’ aspirations of every season, I’m now thinking ‘forth from bottom’ then at least we won’t get relegated. And if that sounds pessemistic, then go watch Spurs and tell me different.

But football fans are fickle. In a ridiculously loyal-in-the-face-of-any-logic-to-the-contrary way. But we’re fickle in that we are always just one win from sublime happiness and confidence, one loss from the suicidal depths of depsair.

One more loss and Pardue loses his job, 3 wins and the man’s a veritable god. Now that’s gone to 4 in a row and they’re tearing down the statue of Alan Shearer and replacing it with one of Pardue headbutting someone.

West Ham even managed a last-gasp draw at mighty Stoke, to keep up their own top 4 challenge, which is due to end very soon. We hope. Because it doesn’t matter how many football matches you win, how pretty the game you play, to represent our nation in Europe requires a certain class. West Ham would be an embarrassment were they to play in Europe. It would be like Justin Bieber on University Challenge. Out of his depth.

So today its the last chance for Spurs. If we lose at Villa today I’m done with football. And if that’s too hard I’ll support Bournemouth instead. They’re a lovely team. Winning lots of matches, quarter finals of the Costco Cup, lovely red and black shirts, and right by the beach if the match gets too dull. Me mate Tai Chi Alex supports Bournemouth and he’s so happy he’s even managed to stay clean of almost all his drug dependence for nearly a week now. Just a little crystal meth, particularly around Hallowe’en when the world gets a bit scary for all of us.

And speaking of Hallowe’en costumes, Luis Suarez played for Barcelona last night. And they lost. Two in a row. And at home too. Incredible. There’s probably going to be a flood of Catalans all looking to find where the hell ‘Bournemouth’ is pretty soon.

Happy rainy sunday

A xxxx

The Virgin ‘Galactic’ rocketship crashed yesterday somewhere over California. Not on its way to the Moon, or to Alpha Centuri or Mars, but to the Mohave Desert to test the fuel. Shame. Pilot killed, another injured and half a billion dollars worth of high tech aviation left in pieces on the floor spoiling the ecology of the area. So all those folks who’ve paid $500,000 each to take a flight on this vehicle will have to wait a bit longer. Its not like they had to take out a mortgage, or pay interest. The list of the 700 people who bought tickets (and are probably seriously considering the merits of such an investment, let alone a risk assessment) reads like the invitation list to the Oscars, or to the American Sportsman of the Year Award. Or ‘World’s Best’ as they probably call it. So none of them are short of half a mil to sit there for a few years gathering dust whilst Branson et al try and build a spaceship that is capable of passing its MOT test, at very least. But I notice that on that list are Russell Brand and Katie Perry. Oh, but they’re no longer an item. And due to the somewhat transient nature of ‘celebrity commitment’, I can envisage an entire planeload of exes, all trying to avoid their once-significant-other, if not half a dozen former mates/wives/husbands/partners/friend-with-benefits. It will be the plane-ride from hell. Hopefully not ‘to hell’ like yesterday’s. With an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. And that on its own has got to be worth the price of admission on its own. Can anyone lend me half a million bucks until…

Not a great week for Ed Milliband. Though in honesty the nearest that man has had to a ‘good week’ was when he brutally stabbed his own brother in the back to steal the Labour Party leadership from him. And if that counts as ‘good’ in chez Milliband, then you can see why Ed spends his whole life with a grimace on his sad little face. Midweek, Maureen Lipman, lifelong Labour member, supporter, voter, stated that she would vote for no party with Ed at the helm. Next came the entire Scottish nation. Pledging that collectively they will not vote Labour any longer. And even if they do, they don’t have a Labour leader ‘up there’ since the last one stood down. And if Scottish Labour is to have no powers in Westminster, what’s the point of them being there anyway?

Oddly, one prospective candidate, Jim Murphy, is unlikely to be elected because of his position of defending and supporting Israel. Which apparently makes anyone unelectable north of the border. Odd that ‘Israel’ should be so divisive, when there are dozens of other pressing, engaging and horrendous issues in the world to consider too.

Even Sol Campbell, ex-England, Arsenal and Spurs traitor has entered this ‘debate’ (not that its a ‘debate’ that Ed M. is a tosser, more a statement of fact), stating how his career as a centre-back has prepared him brilliantly for a future in politics. Obviously. And he would naturally be a Labour man, coming from working class East London roots, but feels himself now to be ‘more conservative’. Nothing self-serving about Sol. No more than there’s ever been previously, that is. His change of (political) heart stems from his massive property portfolio, in which are at least 2 homes that would fall into the mansion tax category. Which would cost Sol some of his not-very-hard-earned billions. And rather than that, he’ll save himself a few grand and change sides to the one he actually hates just to further his own personal gains. Same old Sol then.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

When Apple Inc introduced the i-pod in 1853 it created a revolution. A million records in a piece of digital wizardry the size of a finger-nail. Ok, I exaggerate. The original i-pod held just 2 tracks and was the size of a bus. De-scaling came later along with increased capacity. Then came the i-phone which changed the world even further. More remarkable was the ipad, upon which I’m writing this. Because no-one needed i-pads, no-one was crying out for something too big to shlep around but too small to be brilliantly multi-functional. Yet we embraced out inner-geek, put our reservations aside and channeled another $57billion into Apple for just making the effort.

And now, another startling innovation, the latest ‘must have’, to-die-for bit of kit, launched yesterday. The Homosexual CEO. Its simply brilliant, hard-working, imaginative, industrious, ground-breaking and bent as a five-bob note. The i-gay. Its honest, out-the-closet and a role model for any others trapped inside a false world they can’t survive. Well done Tim Cook.

Very 2014. Except in Russia where one St Petersburg politician has already demaned Mr Cook be ‘banned’. Doubtless others of a homophobic bent (???) will come out of their closets in the not-too-distant. ISIS will doubtless throw away all their i-phones and the ‘Christian Right’ in the USA has been thus far uncharacteristically quiet.

So best take a holiday until its all blown over. Where d’ya fancy? If Cliftonville is a bit too exciting for you, the Grand Canyon a bit bland, New York too noisy and Koh Samui too bloody sandy, then how about North Korea? Oooohhh, that’s different. Apparently they are trying to encourage a tourist trade. Based, so it would sound, on ‘just being in a really wierd place that most people haven’t visited’. You fly in, you can never be without a ‘minder’ who is not there to protect you but to make sure you don’t go astray or actually speak to anyone who might tell you their horrors. You can’t use a phone or take photos and you may end up in prison for life. if this sounds just what you’re looking for then send me your credit card number and all your passwords and I’ll rob you blind.

They’re making a new Thunderbirds movie. That is very very exciting. I love Thunderbirds. Especially The housekeeper’s daughter. Always had a thing about her. As did that bastard Alan Tracey. Or, ‘old wooden-dick’ as I called him. But the son of the Andersons has raised funding to make a new Thunderbirds type movie (£8.43 for string, £28.90 for spare wood) and its out soon. Who need sodding CGI???

Happy Friday

A xxxx

That’s my password. Don’t tell anyone. I always use it because my old one, ‘andy’ was deemed too short for some actions. So I extended it. Then it lacked at least 1 capital letter and a number. Then it was too memorable, it had to be something that was so impossible for anyone to remember that you had to write it on a piece of paper and stick it on your fucking computer. Then it needed at least 14 characters, half of them not letters and NO WORDS!!!!

I know we need protection from online bastards and thieving scum. I know that if someone gets into my bank account online they might pay off my overdraft. Or commit ‘identity fraud’ and some Romanian pick-pocket would come home at 7 o’clock and say he was me. “You’re not Andy!!!!” Mel would shriek in horror. To which he’d reply: “I am now”. “Oh”, she’d say, “well, dinner’s ready, in that case, and have you fed next door’s parrot yet?”

So the Hungarians want to use the internet to impose more tax on their people. Every gig you download will incur a charge by the internet providers which will go towards the government tax pot. So the Hungarians are revolting. Nothing new about that. There’s protests in Budapest. Thousands of iphone-wielding yuppies bemoaning their government’s unfairness.

Well is that any worse than mansion tax? Which is a tax on London? The City which provides about 80% of the nation’s tax in the first place? Londoners should pay less tax because its so ridiculously expensive to live here. We should be subsidised. By the Hungarians if necessary.

Yet back in cyberland there’s more stuff going on. This lovely picture of a woman breast-feeding her tiny little premature baby has been removed from facebook for being deemed ‘offensive’. Facebook stated that (and this is a real quote; honest): “we have a problem with photos of women breast feeding because they involve breasts”. No shit. There were another couple of photos more ‘explicit’ in that there’s a baby clinging to something that, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, one could safely assume was a breast. So its ok to show people getting their heads sawn off with kitchen knives, but a breast, even in the most wonderful and life-affirming context, is verboten. Its like facebook is operating under Sharia law. Though they have now removed the ‘ban’ on the photo. Tossers. If you really want to see breasts, I’m guessing that other websites may be more forthcoming.

Spurs beat Brighton & Hove Albion last night. Brilliant. We love a midweek match against no-hope opposition. Its what makes us feel good. Until Saturday comes. And they always bloody do.

Happy thursday

A xxxx

We are all conditioned from a very early age to adhere to social norms and niceties. Every book we’re read in school, every movie, reinforces the One True Love paradigm. The ‘he’s the one’ or ‘she’s the one’ ethos of monogamy and love forever. Ahhhhhh.

Of course there’s other books and movies that people (ok, men) watch which paint a different picture. Involving lesbian triplets from Thailand, Serbian nuns and donkeys, beatings given by leather-clad dominatrices wearing nazi insignia… you know, other stuff, but that’s (apparently) deviant and perverse and consigned to the top shelf of humiliation and shame.

Religions generally present monogamy as the only option, other than Mormons, of course, which may account for its popularity. And ‘saving oneself for marriage’ is the party line of all judeo-christianic thought. Except Catholics, who save themselves for Jesus.

Yet there are biological imperatives at force as well, often in direct conflict with these social norms. In that all of nature (even Catholics) needs to advance its dna into future generations. Plants do it, animals do it and we do it. Survival of the fittest, the most misunderstood term in science, means survival of reproductive fitness, its not a measure of how many times you can bench press 100kg. It means the more of your ‘seed’ you can get out there the better the chances of some of it evolving into something worthwhile, even though you might be a sad and sorry loser with buck teeth and and body odour issues who supports Arsenal.

And while this applies to men and women, there are obvious constraints. Women can only bear one child at a time, in a long and protracted process. Whilst men can impregnate thousands of women, pretty much all at the same time. And procreation is what its all about. But practicing is fun.

Thus it benefits women to be monogamous, as they will have a provider, giver, protector and carer whilst in child-making and mothering mode, but it biologically benefits men to randomly distribute their dna to any worthy recipient. Tissues don’t count. Or better still, to any unworthy drunken old slapper from Dagenham, or back-seat Betty from Billericay. Its their duty. To nature.

A new test has now confirmed this in another way. Men who have had sex (it actually said ‘slept with’ but that’s a stupid, quasi-Victorian way of skirting the issue; sleeping is fine, sex, for some, is different altogether) with 20 women or more, (not necessarily at the same time) are 28% less likely to get prostate cancer. Wow. As significant results go, that is fucking massive. In every sense. That’s compared to men who’ve only been biblical with one partner.

And this reinforces what our innate biology tells us already. We owe it to our families to ensure we live longer. And if that is to be achieved, we must become more liberal in our dispensation of affections.

We owe it to our families, to our biology, to the future existence of the VERY PLANET WE LIVE ON, to get out there and have meaningless sex with women. Loads of women.

I shall put this to Mel.

Can I sleep at your house tonight?

Happy wednesday

A xxxx

In 2016 they’re going to elect a new American president. The 45th. How many can you name? Ok, George Washington, he was the first, so they named a bridge after him. Then Brooklyn Beckham, he must have been a president because there’s a bridge named after him too. Next was John F. Kennedy, then Marilyn Monroe, Richard Nixon, a Roosevelt or two, J. Edgar Hoover, who wasn’t a president but he was gay, Ronald Regan, Bill Clinton and Michael Douglas. Oh, and some Bushes. Lots of them. All called George due to a peculiar form of ‘name blindness’ in the family which means all children are only and always called ‘George’. Except Jeb. Which stands for John Ellis Bush. Its an acronym. Geddit? And they’re already calling Jeb ’45’. Much as they call his brother, George W, 43, and his father, George HW, 41. I presume the numbers refer to their presidencies and not just to differentiate all the Georges if you can’t remember their middle names. They should have called him ‘Kate’ and avoided the issue altogether.

And there’s Barak Obama. The president who… er… hmmm… then he… well… er…

So to replace Barak they could just go for another cardboard cut-out, or they could go for Jeb. Who it is reckoned will definitely stand. Against Hilary Clinton for the Democrats. Anything her husband could do in the Oval Office she can do. Almost.

The world waits with baited everything for the next exciting development. zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Queens Park Rangers won a match last night, lifting them off the foot of the Premiership table. Bless ’em. Harry Rednap’s job is safe for another week. They beat Aston Villa 2-0. And its that ‘0’ that is significant. Because Villa haven’t scored a goal in their last 5 matches. Which, if you’re standing for the American presidency, is not a problem. But if you’re a football team, its a big problem. A very big problem. You only ever need to score more goals than the team you’re playing. Anything more is a waste. Its showing off. Scoring the same as your opposition is dull, but at least you get a point. Which, in the case of Man United on Sunday, was a rather spectacular and quite amazing point to acquire. Spurs have yet to realise this fact. That scoring the odd goal, even the odd rabona, is simply insufficient to get you where you want to be. Where your fans need you to be. Aston Villa are now, deservedly, cos they can’t score, languishing just above the relegation zone. And they have just one point less than Spurs. So if they draw next weekend, obviously it would be 0-0, and Spurs lose, then we’re down with the dross. With suitable apologies for any supporters of teams ‘down there’ for any insult in that term may imply, which is totally intentional and any apology totally insincere. Your team is rubbish. End of. Sadly, so is mine.

Happy tuesday

A xxxx

Its great being a Chelsea fan. I don’t know why everybody doesn’t support them. Abramovich should just buy everyone else’s fans, like he does with managers and directors and players. Fans wouldn’t cost much, would they? Though Sheikh Mansoor would probably put in a counter-bid for, like, Tranmere Rovers fan club, thus inflating the rate for their 26 members.

But us Chelsea followers have a great time. We go to matches and we come home victorious. Even yesterday when we played Manchester United, we didn’t win, in fact we were robbed in the 94th minute by an equalising goal, but we still brought a point back home where we can keep it with all the others, right at the top of the league. So coming home we had a right good drink on the 7.26 from Manchester Piccadilly down to Euston. In fact we were so pissed by the time we arrived back in London that we had to go straight to the pub and keep the buzz going until we all vomited into the garden of the house next door at midnight. Must have been the beensprouts in me kebab. What a laaarffff. Though not necessarily for the owners of that house next door, I grant you.

We’d quite forgotten, in our drunken stupor, that we had certain responsibilities which really should have been attended to. Fights need to be fought. Innocent civilians need to be scared shitless by blue-shirted skinheads with arms full of tattoos screaming evil songs, and synagogues don’t desecrate themselves.

But can you imagine what it would be like to support a different team? How horrible would that be. Like Spurs, f’rinstance. They only beat third rate teams from the Greek 3rd division, then delude themselves that such a hollow victory stands them in good stead to face a proper, in-yer-face, even talented Premiership team. Yet then along come a bottom three club and beat them at the Lane. If I didn’t faaaarrrrkin’ hate them so much I’d almost feel sorry for them. But I don’t. Because they’re jew scum.

Bit like the Arsenal. Who also play like a bunch’a tarts. The only difference is that they somehow manage to win the odd game as well. Not that Sunderland are in a very good place at the moment. And places don’t get any worse than Sunderland.

West Ham fans are a bit like us Chelsea fans, at heart. In that they pretty well hate everyone and everyone hates them because they’re vile, evil, nasty, nazi, racist, cockney, bottom-feeding vermin. But the Hammers are punching well above their weight at present. Forth in the bloody league and saw off Manchester City, if you so please. I put a tenner on City winning, on an accumulator with ‘Hung like a Horse’ winning the 3.27 at Chepstow, The Fat Blond getting kicked off Strictly Come Dancing and the Portsmouth jihadi getting killed in Iraq. Waste of a bleedin’ tenner that was then. So I put another one on West Ham getting relegated. On the assumption that their luck can’t last forever and they have no skill or talent whatsoever to back it up. 43 to 2 on that. Good odds.

I’m gonna write to Abramovich though, because we need Ronaldo playing for the Blues. In case Costa gets hurt or Drogba dies of old age. I saw the Portugueser Saturday night playing against Barcelona and he’s well tasty. His buy-out is only about £5.7 billion, which is a bit of a bargain really cos he scores about 70 goals a season. And its not like Roman is short of cash, is it? He spends more than that on boats every summer.

CHEL-SEA-EAEAEA…

Happy Monday

A xxxx