Oh for a male muse

God, think I may have to change that dead bird drawing on the left. As someone very sweetly observed the other day, I haven't done much with dead stuff over the last couple of months. Er, well actually there was a butterfly recently, but that definitely died of natural causes on the kitchen windowsill, and it didn't get drowned in wax, so I'm pretty sure it doesn't count. Trouble is, what would I replace said admittedly rather macabre looking picture on the left with? Hmmm, think I may possibly have to have a word with my muse. My what? You know, that thing that occasionally thumps you on the back of the head and your natural response is to go "ooooooooh", just like a Toy Story alien. Then you kind of go "ummmm, is that an idea or what?". Then Miss Muse gets you all excited and you start jumping up and down saying "Oh yes, oh yes, I AM a genius!!!!". Then of course you try out the idea and realise that Miss Muse has just given you the crappiest idea in the universe, saving all the good ones for the famous, well-payed artists in the world and not bloody well you. Then Miss Muse takes it upon herself (for of course she is a she) to kick you back down to earth like a deflating balloon. Then you hit the earth all flat and lifeless. That dear readers is a muse and I am now questioning my own earlier judgement about consulting with her in the first place. After all, I am already on the earth and flat as a pancake, so why bother with the faff? Think I might have a go at trying out a male muse in future. Oh bugger, I think that should have been male model. Any volunteers anyone?