Okay. So check this out. We're back in Edinburgh. The whole group of us. So are the assholes that make us work all the time--Kitty, Andy, Tom, and Will. A serious bunch of asshats and slave drivers. It's a lot of work being a puppet in Edinburgh, and no goddamn respect. Anyway, I got to spend about eight hours in a fucking plastic box in that douche Tom Butterworth's car on the way up, even though I'm, oh, I don't know, THE FUCKING STAR OF THE SHOW. Then we got moved into this nice flat on Jeffrey Street, which is just off the Royal Mile. It's the first time I haven't had to stay at least 30 minutes out of the city, and so I'm more than a little bit relieved. Or I would be if we hadn't had to trapse down to a press launch tonight, where we performed for a bunch of dancers who didn't give a good goddamn what we were talking about, and we were treated to a mediocre reception. Hopefully things will get better, or I will be forced to kill a man.