I had a night in, first one in ages
Following a pitiful day at work, the situation compounded my facing legal action from a client, in addition to losing £££££ and, of course, no business, I was fucking chuffed to Henry’s getting out of the office without declaring myself bankrupt.
I whistled off home under a cloud of grey, the roads were still wet from the earlier rain so there was no space for heroics. After packing the bitch away I hopped upstairs and opted for a bath. It felt like the right thing to do to separate ‘work’ from ‘home’, radio 4 on in the background, shampoo, fresh towels, a burp of the worm, roll-on, shave, yukata… I felt like a new girl, I mean man.
I made a sensational meal, it’s a regular favourite and simple to prepare, allow me to indulge you. Cook some good quality pork sausages in the oven, in the meantime make a white sauce (gently cook equal parts butter and plain flour, slowly add milk until the consistency of old sump oil) and add some Dijon, grated cheese, seasoning and raw chopped onion (the RCO will thin the sauce so be aware of this) and cook the sauce off carefully. When the sausages are done steam a load of broccoli and dump the sauce over the lot, season and eat smugly. It’s fucking ace, really.
Just as the last morsel of food retired in my mouth I heard a commotion from downstairs, such was the commotion I was forced to turn down House, which in my flat is akin to pressing your bollocks up against the face of a baby. I needn’t have bothered altering the volume; Cunt had lost the fucking plot.
There was no sound from the source of his angst, which doesn’t surprise me, she’s so thin you could pick the food out of your teeth with her fingers, ironically. Nor was there any sound of the baby, which doesn’t make much noise anyway, something I find more disturbing than refreshing…
Cunt was in full flight, he was screaming his bastard lungs out, as usual due to a deficiency of humanness most of what was being yelled was incomprehensible though peppered with expletives, you could virtually hear his knuckles hit the wooden floor every time he said ‘fuck’. The only part of his speech that hit home was ‘stop fucking about with my life’. An interesting comment from a man who never works, has no friends, and is unable to take his penis out of casual girlfriend’s front bottom, who was just visiting from oversees, when the white worms come out. Anyway, so long as he’s suffering down there I’m happy.
I watched the rest of House and did some writing as I was hit with a poem, it happens yeah. Following some dreadful pile of shit on the ‘comedy of Hitler’ (cobbled together tish and fipsy from A Guardian journo) I washed up and hit the hay, lulled to sleep by Radio 4, as usual.
It’s lovely day to today, I’m in a fair mood, I’m certainly looking forward to this evenings drinkies with my bro and Frank, more importantly, I’m rather excited about the Wedding tomorrow. I don’t usually get too thrilled at the prospect of weddings, I hope I behave myself.
Tune in on Monday where you can find out what happened
(This is fucking ace, nice weekends kidsz)