All time stats on my blog. What’s number 1? Yes, the Woman does Poo in Supermarket. Ever so slightly.
You sick fucks!
My fellow lodger over here in the sunny borough of CroyDon is such a lazy git. She’s a teacher, so I suppose I can’t expect anything else.
Here’s the beef:
I see she leaves some dirty plates and cutlery in the sink. I wash hers up. I buy the washing up liquid. (And the loo rolls, but let’s not get started on that bit – yet…)
I come home tonight to see my single small plastic carton and lid sitting in the sink from last night’s casserole reheat-fest. The draining board is full of her stuff.
Come on, girl. You’ve seen me wash your stuff. Put your stuff away. And you don’t do mine?
And, of course, there’s the small matter of the big sign saying “Please do your washing up – it’s not nice to see things in the morning” Jesus wept. I might leave a single plate, or something like that, overnight.
And I get this!
So, from now on I am not going to clean your crap up.
Sooner you bog off to Spain the better!
Buy your own bloody washing up liquid AND your own bloody loo roll.
She seems to spend hours in the toilet. And she eats the loo roll. So fuck you.
Not that you’d bloody notice of course. It’s the commie’s determination to destroy the cultural identify of this country.
Am I just being mad and bonkers?
Just look around you.
Are you going mad?
Is everybody else?
And what are you going to do about it?
What is it with me?
Not only do I get propositioned in the loos at a night club in Stockwell, now I’m being frottaged on the train from Vauxhall to Clapham Junction at 0716 in the morning!!!! On a bloody Sunday!
A mental person (obviously a clubber as he was rather worse for wear and smelled rather of beers and that smoky thing I sniffed at East Croydon....) decided I was his bestest mate.
Kept saying “Awesome venue!” on the train at Vauxhall and rubbing his knees against me!!!!! Hoped to avoid him, but he got off at Clapham (platform 4) and walked very close to me all the way to platform 15 (I was varying my speed....) where he said “Oh, aren’t you coming with me to the exit?” I said “Er, no. I am going to CroyDon” and he said “You sure you don’t want to come with me and have fun?”
I said “No, I’ve got a girlfriend and everything.”
He replied “Ok, take care mate!” and tried to hug me!!!!! So I just shook his hand and said “Laters, man” and he seemed happy with that and went wandering off. I might have got lucky there!
But I already am the luckiest man on the planet. Ever been on the planet. Oh yes. For I have my Clar Ni Broin! All snuggly and cuddly!
In Brighton on a very rainy and windy Bank Holiday Monday and we were searching for somewhere warm to sit. Decided to go into a sort of funky left-wing organic coffee shop for an afternoon tea:
Looks like they sort of tried to erase the apostrophe on “tea’s” but probably left it because they weren’t sure.
And when do you actually BAKE tea? I use a kettle. That’s probably why I can rustle up a nice cup of tea in 2 minutes for less than 5p, and theirs cost £4.99!!!!
So, a vegan cafe.
I wanted bacon.
Did they offer it?
Did they bugger!
It’s always the same with these people isn’t it? They come over to you for dinner and YOU are expected to cook something vegetarian or vegan or some other stupid thing, as well as meat ahoy for yourselves, but go round to theirs for dinner and do THEY cook up a rack of ribs or a nice leg of lamb for YOU? Ha, do they fuck.
So next time any veganist comes around mine they’ll get what I’m cooking. MEAT. Don’t like it, well go drink some tea’s with bacon in it!
Oh my god. What store or bunch of people do you think would be expected to be able to spell the word AUTHOR correctly?
Difficult question, isn't it? How about a BOOK STORE?
Well, not the one in the Croydon Whitgift centre, that’s for sure. I’m sure the AUTHOR coming along to sign his book wouldn’t be overly impressed:
I’m sure Boris is turning in his grave!
Oh well, and this from The Telegraph:
And, not wanting to be pedantic, but that really should have an apostrophe in the word “teachers” shouldn’t it, Mr Telegraph?
Teachers, eh? Lazy sponging Common Purpose nob-heads, the lot of them.
And why does this “Chris Keates” look so so angry and full of hate? Or maybe she’s just constipated and desperately needing a poo?
Go on, strike. Nobody will notice anyway. Won’t have any effect on the children’s education at all – you don’t currently teach them anything worth knowing anyway.
God damn! My lovely Clare is now working 3pm – 11pm until Easter day. So no eggs for her. At least we can spend Easter Monday together without having to get our carcasses out of bed! I fancy a BIIIIG bacon fry-up on the Monday!
With more bacon.
I really hate her shifts.
I took my blog temporarily down yesterday after having a long conversation with my (soon to be) ex-wife. She was upset at some of the language I used, and at some of the posts I’ve put up.
I have amended a couple of postings from last year.
And I would like to state, on, and for, the record:
My STBX wife and I had many issues which went for a long time unresolved. We both had some bad instances. We both have done very bad things. However, they no longer matter as we are both in a much better life now.
Things have now changed and we are both free of our past life and of each other. I am with Clar ni Broin. She is with Simon. We are both very happy with our new lives.
So what is the point digging at each other anymore? I don’t see there is one.
I hold nothing against her. I wish her all the best, all the love that she certainly deserves, and needs. T, I will still be your friend if you will have me.
To the World:
For everything that has happened, let us learn from the mistakes. Clare and I are so much in love, it is incredible, We plan a wonderful life together.
A couple of my tunes, just to raise up your spirits:
What would Michael Collins be doing now if he could see how his sacrifices have led to Ireland having swapped British Imperial Rule for a brief piece of independence and now to being ruled by an iron fist by the EUssr……
06.Dec.1922 to 01.Jan.1973
Died in its 50s.
Cause of death: Political Apathy.
Question: Did you really want it? Independence that is. Doesn't look like it…
Question: Who is your master now? It’s not you, is it?
Question: If you say “No”, how many times will you say this before you are giving the “right” answer to your new masters.
BIG QUESTION: What are you going to do about it?
Well, the budget has come and gone again and we are all shafted yet again. Oh what a surprise that was.
I really do wonder exactly how much more we can put up with before we all rise up and do a Greek (or Spanish or, looming, a Portuguese)?
Where is my piano wire??????