I'd feel safe and warm (if I was in L.A.)

Today is, or rather would be, the 43rd Birthday of Paul Tate-Polanski, had he been spared from certain... predations.

What, you egg! Like Macduff, he was from his mother's womb untimely ripped. And by (count them) witches three, no less...

All the best, kiddo, wherever you are... And say hi to your Ma, for me ; )

'case you hadn't heard yet, I think maybe (perhaps) your Old Man may finally have found some peace at long last... They're still not going to leave him alone anytime ever, but he's back at home in Switzerland with your step-mother and not electronically tagged and under house arrest anymore. His films are getting noticed again, they're getting rave reviews and winning awards again (of course). He's no longer a *complete* pariah in Hollywood anymore, he's been honoured by The Accademy (again, personally this time) and inducted into the French Legion of Honour. And (finally) you have a little half-sister. Took a decade or four, but he finally seems to be happy and content again, at long last.


At least he's stopped having all those flings with Air Hostesses, at any rate...

Oh, by the way, if you see Lennon around before I do, if he pops over to say hullo to your Mum for a cuppa and a bit of natter, ask him to page me if you wouldn't mind?

Tell him he can reach me via the matras on binaural - got a few things on the go at the minute and I could use some Scouse onside while I'm working 'em through the old wetware.

Cheers, Kid.

Blessed be.