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The words are all mine, most of the pictures are not. Some of the words are not mine either.

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Chippy Tea

Hey. . .

Firstly I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for not blogging (is it blogging? That sounds kind of rude) posting – smearing my terrible brain trumps all over this little corner of the internet for a while.

I try to produce at least one thing for people to ignore per week, otherwise whats the point?
The thing is... I’ve had to do some real life grown up stuff.

Proper grown up.

I am in the process of selling my house..moving into another house (can't stay in the luxury of this caravan for ever) while at the same time attempting to resolve “administration issues” with one the UK’s largest banking institutions.

I don’t keep a diary. I couldn’t care less reading about what I had for tea 6 years ago or how being dumped by that girl who had Paralytic strabismus made me write some of the worst poetry EVER (it really is hard to rhyme Paralytic strabismus – abacus works at a pinch but how do you make work?!?!? .. . .the bitch)

Anyway... if I did keep a diary the last week of my life would have read something like this:

(Cue wibble wobble effect to show the passage of going back in time)
"Pure Ambrosia in a plastic tray"


Got back home around 8pm.
Dog walked and pizza for tea. Looking forward to getting all the decorating done. I’ve missed being home. It’s been ages.
Told Mrs B I wanted to have a proper chippy tea at some point in the week. Can’t wait!


Got up nice an early and made a start. Made a fry up for breakfast. It was good.
Took dog for a walk.
Told next doors kids to get off the wall. They are just as ugly as I remembered.
Bought a new toilet seat and fixed up a treat. How manly am I?!?!
Cleaned the bathroom to professional standards, including under the loo behind the sink.
Discovered some damp at the bottom of the stairs. That needs looking into.
Chicken and salad for tea.


Continued the manly work by cutting up some plaster board and measuring it by using my Jedi powers.
Told next doors kids to get off the wall – again.
Salad and crusty bread for tea.
Need to buy more plaster board.


Received a letter claiming I owe £349.
I don’t.
This should have sorted by the bank. Shithousebastards!!!!!
Will ring them when I get back to the caravan on Monday.
Going out with the boys tonight. Will be good to catch up. Shame Dave is going to be there. I hate Dave.
Will eat some tea when I’m out with the lads.
Threw a small stone at next doors cat because it was on my wall. I think it hit one of the ugly kids.


Mrs H has gone out drinking with the girls and it’s not even 11am. The tall one out of McFly has come round to value the house.
Little oik spent all of 5 minutes peeking his under aged head in each room and then had the cheek to tell he could sell the house for much less than I paid for it.
I told him, I said “just ‘cos you’ve got little soft hairs round your mouth, doesn’t mean you should talk like a cunt!”
I didn’t say that. But I wish I had.
Told next doors kids to “GET THE FUCK OFF MY FUCKING WALL YOU FUCKING STUPID LITTLE FUCKING FUCKS!” or words to that effect. can't a guy masterbate furiously at his kitchen window in peace in more!?!?! It's health and saftey gone MAD!
Mrs H came home drunk and demanded I ordered a kebab.
Kebabs for tea.


Going home to the caravan.
I've spent all my comic book money on boiler repairs and damp proofing or what ever its bloody called. it's shit being grown up. nobody ever told about this side of life. i thought it was all boozy nights out and touching up slags. rubbish!
I hate them kids next door as well. little punks.
Forgot to have a chippy tea. 



1 comment:

  1. (Wiping tears of laughter from eyes and spittle off computer screen due to laughing)
    If you wrote a diary blog, I would still follow you... though not in a stalking/in need of a restraining order kinda way...


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