Ah, you see? It’s beautiful and sunny today. It’s fucking with us. It’s playing with our minds, it’s like having ones balls tickled by that stripper bird from Heroes (as she fiddles with her mimsy pausing only to stroke my balls with two hands or rub her ti…) only for her to turn round just as one is engorged with desire and fart sour milk all over your face. Then be very rude about the size of your winkle if the sour milk thing didn’t put you off.
It won’t fool me; I’ll resist its tempting temperate climbs as it tries to suck me into the belief that we’ve another month and a half of glittering mornings and balmy evenings. Instead I’ll mentally turn on the central heating, put on a fucking big coat and sit in the dark, moaning loudly about cunts fucking of to Thailand for the winter fiddling with kids I shouldn’t wonder, it makes me sick.
Last night following a couple of pints with Frank in the beer garden, the weather was perfect, actually the sunset on the way home was one of the best I’ve seen this year… I mean it was cold and shit, I got home and ran a gorge bath and just as I was settling into a bit of lavender pandering remembered that Nigella Lawson’s new programme, Big Hooter Express or something, was due to start in 5. I leapt out of the bath as if it was filled with Anthrax, the band, and patted my firm, hard body dry sensually. I’d taken the liberty of throwing a couple of sausages into the oven and preparing my excellent onion, mustard and cheese sauce prior to bathing so it was just a question of steaming some broccoli and settling down with Nige and a fork. I think I was giggling.
The programme is utter twaddle. Really, who the fuck keeps prepared squid knocking about in the freezer soley in case some turd pops by for sup sups? The series is focussing on fast food but the vast quantity of preparation and post cooking grief easily shits on the whole ‘it only takes 10 minutes!’ nonsense. In between viciously edited footage of Nige throwing things into pans, mugging at the camera and eating food like she’s a rare breed of Gloucester pig, we see her going about her daily business emphasising her ‘hectic busy lifestyle’ which seems to consist of making notes in the back of cabs passing through a Dick Van Dyke London. It would seem our Nige has spent quite a lot of time sitting in the backs of cabs between series, she’s now the size of a doormobile.
Short Piqued, I have work to do. Instead of posting some music today I thought I’d post some footage of what happens if you’ve got too much money and attitude but you’ve overlooked the fact you’re a cunt. When I first saw this I laughed so much I thought my face was going to split.
(Actually. Even if she had farted sour milk on my face and insulted my winkie I still think I’d be good to go)