Craig, a genius ex-colleague of mine, has just jacked in the rat race and jetted off to the land of Oz for a year. So far (T plus 4 days), he's seen giant orange monkeys, drunk beer and made a young lady friend, which are three interesting things that failed to occur in the entirety of the Roquefort Files' sojourn there.

Still, Ulysses1, eh? Damn, my holiday reading habits are fly. Beat that, Craig.

1. post-Oz progress: gave up on chapters 1 & 2, went back to wilfully, impenetrably academic introduction in vain hope of understanding what, exactly, the fuck Joyce is on about.