Your Patience...

...will one day be rewarded dear readers. Like JK Rowling, I will not let the Hollywood jackals turn hhn The Movie into some American version of the original. I will demand that it be called hhn The Film, and will ensure that each and every one of you is portrayed by a Brit actor. ( Although did Madame B once mention she was French or a New Zealander? Maybe I am making it up in an attempt to make her more exotic.) And Prince will play at the opening night, and you will all get front row seats. And the goodie bag will include play figures of each and every six of you. And you will get stalkers. And be invited onto Celebrity Big Brother and Castaway and that show where you have to learn to dance. And Callum Best will want to &^%$ you. And one of you will do a cook book. And another one could become Patron of The Badger Trust. And another one get God, very publicly. And another go into rehab, equally publicly. And quite a few of you could be the face for those billboard campaigns for anti-balding remedies. And there could be rumours about one of you and Courtenay Love [sp? Can't be arsed to Google her.] And Madame B's gardening partner could sell his story to The News Of The World (for 14 euros). And Styx would finally be able to look Bob Geldof in the eye on equal celeb terms. And The Waunch could finally become the attention of star fuckers rather than the current other way around. And Gervais would regret not having been nicer to Madame B last week. And Bid would pretend that he has been reading hhn all along and try and sue me for not making a play figure of him. And blokewho would become blokewhois. And, and, and...

Back in the real world, pretty excited about going to see Prince this Friday evening. A wing-walker is some bird in a red catsuit that gets strapped to the top of a biplane. Someone - randomly - sent mrs househusbandnot a tiny olive tree in the post yesterday. I saw a fox in the garden below our flat on Monday evening. mrs hhn and I are going to Portugal next weekend. I learned (well the beginning bit anyway) Yellow Leadbetter on the guitar last night. And mrs hhn made a tortilla on Sunday night that made me fall in love with her all over again. (See why I don't write every day at the moment? Any suggestions for hhn content gratefully received.)