Category Archives: janes addiction

gutrot

Sorry about yesterdays post, it was utter drivel.

And my apologies for this one in advance.

I’m not making excuses for myself but despite the exultation on Friday when I though my cold was leaving my system, it certainly didn’t feel like that yesterday. Being the self-denying trooper I am I managed to suppress most of it putting my fatigue down to lack of sleep.

As the day went on I started getting really bad stomach cramps, I assume this is down to the vast quantity of snot I’ve consumed, even a couple of pints with Frank didn’t help and by the time I got home and had taken a bath I had no appetite whatsoever.

I had a totally non-eventful feeling unwell evening. My face was a snot waterfall and my guts felt as if they were primed with nails. I went to bed at 11 or so and listened to the radio, some ‘comedy’ on BBC Radio 4 which was occasionally funny but it was  so obviously being performed by doctors and it became all knowing and ‘aren’t we bloody clever/funny us lot’, it was a bit annoying made even more so by the overly keen audience.

I woke up at 5am with my stomach on fire and a clod of fizzy salt beef sat rotting over my button. I just about made it to the chod bin in time before farting out a pissing stream of corrosive acid accompanied by the sound of deranged pigs eating one another. It was agony, I set my nipsy on fire to the point it needed to be doused clean with cold water. I took some antacid and went back to bed. Five minutes later the process was repeating, then again for another hour, I fell asleep 10 minutes before I was due to get up.

When I awoke I evacuated myself again and came into work. Unlike a cold having a dose of the cramping cacks does require one to stay at home. But I simply have to be here this week. I’ve already attended the bog 4 times since I arrived; my stomach feels like it’s been replaced with helium and I’m weaker than a burp in a hurricane.

Fascinating aside. When I got home last night I noticed some ripped open post was sat in the porch. Scrawled on the front was written ‘I opened this by acident (sp) I thought it was mine’. I can see why Cunt had made a mistake; it clearly has my name and address over it…

Cunt has been dead quiet since the altercation last week; I know he’s down there, I can hear him cunt about. This morning during one of my bubbling/bark sessions at about 5.45, I heard him go out. ‘Fucking hell’ I thought, ‘he’s got a job!’

At 5.55 he came back in again. I give up.

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