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The Sunday Papers

H...ello? Hello. Thank the Lord. Oh Than... let's do this quickly. Sundays are for crouching in the darkness of an enormous beast's belly, feeling your legs slowly dissolve in stomach acids, listening to the whimpering of John as he calls for his mother, finally managing to get a little internet reception as the creature that ate us passes some wireless Internet so I can compile and present a list of Interesting reading from across the week and/or send desperate messages for help and/or try and resist linking to some music.

Failed And... signal failing. Please send help. All of RPS have been eaten by a monster. John is still with us, but Alec and Jim are being very quiet. Internet signal dying. And I think I'm running out of ti

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