Day 1365 and 1366. It is Saturday morning and The B.O is in his shed, seated at a table with 5 blocks of wood on chairs round him. For he is addressing his 'children'. ( now this may seem a bit bonkers but come on, we're not all fucking visionaries are we?) "Right, he begins " Morning Carl, Al, Truidi, Carlton and Pest. Stan would be here but I've disowned him." He looks round at them sternly. " Sit up straight all of you." He inspects them all and nods. " Right, now I want a word with you, Carlton. A while ago, you ungrateful little fuck, you were complaining that you can only play what I tell you to, with who I tell you, and how I tell you. You said I kept interfering in your childish little games and spoiling all your fun. So since then, I have completely fucking ignored you because you are clearly totally stupid, and now you're moaning that I don't give you enough pocket money, and you can't buy anything decent to play with! You vinegar pissing little prick! And you are SO rude all the time about your lovely Auntie Daisy! What have you got to say for yourself???" It goes quiet in the shed. " The old silent treatment eh!" fumes the B.O. " I am your father! Why can't you be like Truidi eh, she doesn't go round saying my dancing is shit, and protesting all the time! And now you're hanging with the wrong crowd, drinking in the wrong bars ( not mine!) and playing CARD games ( whatever they are) and refusing to come home!" The B.O stands up. " You ungrateful little bastard!" Oh my. It's a bit of a tense family situation. Oh well let's leave dear old dad stewing in his shed with his kids. He's still here. Oh fuck...
Day 1372 and 1373. The inspired leadership of the B.O and his fragrant salary grabbers has rather overwhelmed me today, and I am at a loss as to how to express my feelings of gratitude about it eloquently. Oh wait, how about - He's still here. Oh fuck....
Day 1379 and 1380. Dum di dum, fiddle di dee........ He’s still here, lurking in the shadows, with his very own nightly Halloween party, whirling about like a demented penguin to the danse macabre. Oh vampiric fuck....
Looking at the sky yesterday the same amber hue as our great owners teeth, I was hoping it was a sign that his spirit was being sucked away to where it came from, but no he's still here. Save our souls.
Comments
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
Bins out, Roland out. If only.
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
He's still here.
Oh fuck...
It is Saturday morning and The B.O is in his shed, seated at a table with 5 blocks of wood on chairs round him. For he is addressing his 'children'.
( now this may seem a bit bonkers but come on, we're not all fucking visionaries are we?)
"Right, he begins " Morning Carl, Al, Truidi, Carlton and Pest. Stan would be here but I've disowned him."
He looks round at them sternly.
" Sit up straight all of you."
He inspects them all and nods.
" Right, now I want a word with you, Carlton. A while ago, you ungrateful little fuck, you were complaining that you can only play what I tell you to, with who I tell you, and how I tell you. You said I kept interfering in your childish little games and spoiling all your fun. So since then, I have completely fucking ignored you because you are clearly totally stupid, and now you're moaning that I don't give you enough pocket money, and you can't buy anything decent to play with! You vinegar pissing little prick! And you are SO rude all the time about your lovely Auntie Daisy! What have you got to say for yourself???"
It goes quiet in the shed.
" The old silent treatment eh!" fumes the B.O. " I am your father! Why can't you be like Truidi eh, she doesn't go round saying my dancing is shit, and protesting all the time! And now you're hanging with the wrong crowd, drinking in the wrong bars ( not mine!) and playing CARD games ( whatever they are) and refusing to come home!"
The B.O stands up.
" You ungrateful little bastard!"
Oh my. It's a bit of a tense family situation.
Oh well let's leave dear old dad stewing in his shed with his kids.
He's still here.
Oh fuck...
He's still here.
Oh Monday morning for the love of God fuck....
Oh Fuck!
Oh fuck...
He's still here.
Oh interminable fuck...
(Did you put the bins out?)
And not even it being bin day makes it any better.
He's still here.
Oh rubbish fuck.....
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
The inspired leadership of the B.O and his fragrant salary grabbers has rather overwhelmed me today, and I am at a loss as to how to express my feelings of gratitude about it eloquently.
Oh wait, how about -
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
He’s still here.
Oh rather chilly morning fuck..
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
It may be bin day, but even the bin men wouldn’t take him.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
He’s still here like a daily Friday 13th.
Oh unlucky fuck.....
We're DOOMED aye tell'ya... DOOOOOOMED!!!!!
Dum di dum, fiddle di dee........
He’s still here, lurking in the shadows, with his very own nightly Halloween party, whirling about like a demented penguin to the danse macabre.
Oh vampiric fuck....
He’s still here.
Oh stormy fuck...
Keep up the good work, one day he'll be gone.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
I was hoping it was a sign that his spirit was being sucked away to where it came from, but no he's still here. Save our souls.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
Bin day. Sorry, i’m talking rubbish again.
But while we’re at it, he’s still here.
Oh fuck....