When I went to bed last night I could hear Cunt snoring. I said to Myfwt, a Cunt like that has no right to sleep so soundly, on account of the fact he’s a fucking cunt –then the thought that I was speaking of him in such invidiousness tones whilst I could hear the little dog-dollop snoring below began to do my head in. Surely that must be the limit, actually hearing the sound of the person you despise more than David Cameron soundly sleeping.
Still, at least he was asleep and more importantly quiet, despite his somnolent honkings. For the past few evening we’ve been treated to the second-hand sounds of him ‘entertaining’ some poor cow, this includes plying her with Piat D’Or and Black Tower (I see the evidence of this in the communal Recycle Bin) playing dance music over which he shouts in a way best described as ‘special’ and of course, whooping like some witless post-pubescent hick whose just discovered how to make his perpetually ossified cock go all floppy.
I’m in one of those dreadful moods this morning; I’m not hungover despite a few ales with Frank and his missus last night, and two glasses of wine when I got in, it’s a lovely day today and my black bitch and I are one again, no one has died, everyone is well actually… I’m just feeling, well disgruntled. This morning I nearly bit my toothbrush in half on hearing that the government are planning to legislates against cut-price booze in Supermarkets…
Oh where to start with his one. Firstly, cut-price booze is freely available in just about every corner shop in the UK, and I can assure you underage kids/winoes don’t go shopping in Waitrose to spend 40p on their 2 litre bottles of White Tinkle. 8 Ace in Viz is funny because it’s true, for example… So we have an agenda, I smell tax revenue of course and it won’t be the jobless wankers that sit about all day in vicious rows necking plastic bottles of liquid cirrhosis that will feel the pinch. No, it will be the middle class middle-income types that foot the bill for this, as bloody per.
But that wasn’t that part of the news that caused me to pinch one of my own pills in horror; it was hearing a Tesco spunkspitter altruistically announcing it was ‘willing to work with the government’.
Well how fucking kind, how benevolent of you Tesco, yes, you’ll ‘reluctantly’ hike up your booze prices to help the British Medical Councils government driven incentive to help themselves to more tax whilst you add to your disgusting portfolio of property acquisition and profits, as, even as I type this, that cunt Dame Shirley Porter, (described by Nicholas Lezard as “…the most corrupt British political figure in living memory, with the possible exception of Robert Maxwell”) the heir to Tesco’s fortunes languishes in opulence after committing the heinous crime of corrupting the democratic system of voting in her home for votes scandal and getting away with it scott free.
Having said that, I’d still have Porter and Cameron over for sex tea rather than live above a creature I wouldn’t trust to sit on a loo the right way round.