Death by pop lovesong from the king of fire and easy listening. Christ.

I warned you. Criteria for living here is that you must be thoroughly and hopelessly afflicted with Romantic Tourettes.

I just want you to know who I am.

He's been singing all day, at top volume, from his place flat on his back on the floor. Every twelve minutes he raises himself up on his elbows and takes a big gulp of whiskey* and he makes that stupid noise, some sort of Scottish click-version of tsk, and then he flattens himself to the floor again.

So he can keep singing Iris.

I think I hate this song. I didn't used to but I do now.

*(For the record Lochlan isn't drunk anymore, the kids did not see him, I would have started drinking too had I been told what he was told (nothing to do with the children, in case you were jumping to conclusions) and Caleb is still evil.)