Greeking Hellios

Apparently, the Greek tax people have been a bit buggered in their quest to get more cash from the Greek people. Yes, they have run out of ink to print tax demands.

Is this taking the piss or what?

And although we, in the UK, are not in the Eurozone, we are going to be fucked into next Tuesday to pay for it all.

Thanks Cameron. You wanker.

Thanks Clegg. You twatting fart-sucker.

Thanks Labour. You have done more to fuck this country into next Tuesday than anybody ever – apart from the vile Ted Heath who took us into the fucking system in the first place.

Which is why I say : lampposts and pianowire!

Great new TV show, starring Ant and Dec.

3/4 anniversary

Well, here we are. 9 months in. Almost. And what a wonderful 9 months it has been. I have felt things and done things I never thought possible. I have felt love, real love, for the first time. And bloody hell it is wonderful.

My Clare and I are so in love it makes the tram travellers blush. Each morning, we board the local tram to East Croydon station and snuggle and kiss and whisper how much we love each other. We cling to one another always, regardless of how many people are on board. I can see them looking at us, as I gaze up occasionally from our kisses. They look sort of embarrassed and jealous at the same time. Which is fine my me. Fine by us.

We eat well each night too. Fresh food, cooked with love. Chores split evenly. I cook, she washes, and vice versa. There has never been anything in my life so wonderful as my gorgeous, beautiful Clare. So tall. So sexy. So open. So honest. So trusting. And so wonderful.

Now, I don’t give a flying wossname as to who knows, but things are about to start legally, so with a bit of luck I and her will be us forever soon.

So, nine months in : I love you, Clare.

Here’s to eternity…..

xxxxxxxx

Just hold me now

Ranting over. I’m not giving up on love.

Ever.

I have the best of all worlds.

A beautiful women who loves me, and whom I love.

Er.

Well, that’s it.

I will never ever disappoint you, my darling. Nothing else matters. I’m not giving up on love. I have what I have always craved.

Golly Gosh

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged anything. Much has happened. Much is yet to happen. And much may happen.

With my ex, Christmas will be awkward. I am not welcome to stay a night on the sofa bed so that I may see my girls opening their presents on Xmas day. I must stay in a hotel. That’s £100.

Can’t afford that. Not with her refusal to pay something towards the unauthorised overdraft which is costing £5 a day. I simply cannot pay for any more. I can’t. I try, I want to provide for my girls. It’s my duty as their Dad. They will never know what I have paid for. Expected to pay for. No, no longer. I can’t any more. That pleading for £50 for food because she has run out of money for food. No, sorry. Can’t. You can get a job, I can’t get another one. And why should I? My company has had the rogue trader $2,300,000,000 issue. That means no bonus. No pay rise. Fuck all for me this year for all the hours I’ve put in. So no, I will not be subsidising you anymore. You can walk away from the house, the mortgage, the secured and unsecured loans that I’m paying for. Oh yes. You can be declared bankrupt. Easy for you. You have nothing to lose. That would destroy me. I wouldn’t be able to work anymore in my profession. But believe me, you are jointly liable for it all, so don’t forget that.

Christmas. £100 on hotels I don’t need? Can I afford that? Well, I could, but that would mean not being able to buy my girls any presents. Either way I am the bad Dad who doesn’t care. Well, I’m used to that. One day, one day they will know the truth. I guarantee this.

Is this something really that important? Keeping me out of my own house? That I pay for? What have you done? Tidied it? Cleaned it? Looked after it? Pah. I don’t even have a bloody key.

For what?

Nose. Spite?

I will go up, therefore, on Christmas Eve only, and return to my home the same day. At least I can give my girls some presents but I will miss them on the big day itself. But what does that matter, when you can lord it over the Bad Dad? Still enjoy your dinner, your presents, paid for by the taxpayer. You’re pretty much unemployable now. Wonderful.

My new family have welcomed me whole heartedly. For that I am humbly grateful and honoured. At least I will have a Christmas Day I will be allowed to enjoy.

Wonderful.

Love it.

Why does everything need to be so complicated??

And with your refusal to pay anything towards to overdraft, I can’t afford any more to come up to those meetings that are so important. Will they make me choose between their meetings and me seeing my girls?????

I will be writing to social services to explain why I cannot meet them anymore : and it will be down to your inability, your refusal to pay for those things that are keeping that roof over your head. You have no idea, had no idea and never would have any idea how much I have supported you. I no longer can.

You must take responsibility for what you did.

It’s a commandment, after all.

Message to the World

For my Clare:

Amor meus amplior quam verba est.

Patience.

Our time will come.

Soon.