I really should’ve thought it through, I mean I heard Cunt go out about 10 mins before us but thought no more of it outside of ‘I hope he dies this time’.
It was a lovely Friday evening; Myfwt and I decided to hit the local, her friend was supposed to have been joining us but blew us out at the 11th hour, much to the dismay of Myfwt who felt it a little, well, off.
As soon as we walked into the bar I heard a familiar stifled-grunting, like a pig successfully locating offal, ‘Do you know of a *insert our respective names here* as I think they ordered a cab…’ He turned to us with an obsequious grin and approached us with his cunting pint. Myfwt immediately began texting ‘someone’ and outside of a vague snarl utterly ignored him, even when he commented on her height, which he always does. The cunt.
I was treated to his latest psychosis, apparently he’s ‘fucking made it’ on the strength that he’s going to e-mail picures of his ‘paintings’ (I wish you could see these things, one doesn’t know whether to fall over laughing or pluck off ones cock, laughing) to Saatchi’s website. That’s it. ‘You may know I’m a musician but I’m an artist too…’ he said to me. Myfwt had had enough, ‘I’m going outside’, she said chillingly, which was perfectly timing as I was just about to cross the line from simply just imagining his gormless visage with bits of my pint glass stuck in it, ‘I’ll join you’ I said.
On Saturday evening we went over to meet Jamie and Alison for dinner. Alison is pregnant so was unable to drink, Jamie, Myfwt and I made up for it, champagne followed by Rose, then Claret, then Whiskey, Whisky and Grappa. The food was excellent, the company splendid and requires no detail than that, though it’s worth mentioning the cheesecake hitting the floor wrong side up due to out hosts inherent, perpetual compromise in the ways of gravity and objects therein.
The rest of the weekend passed in a most delightful way, we visited my niece on Sunday, she’s doing great but my sister isn’t, she may require a blood transfusion on account of losing so much blood and the subsequent iron deficiency. Last week she called my brother in law into the bathroom which in his works resembled Jeffrey Dahmer’s shed, claret all over the place, my sister fresh caesarean wound had split open and was pumping liquid out. The little person that was lying asleep in my arms is certainly making mum and dad earn their dues for creating such beauty.
Over the weekend I spoke to Jack, we’ve altered our plans slightly. Now both machines are to be shipped to San Francisco, I’ll fly directly there in under 2 weeks. Jack and I will then ride down the Californian coast via LA before heading up through Nevada to Utah, after spending a few days on the salt flats we’ll ride east to Colorado and the Grand Canyon and get on the Skywalk. We’ll then continue east and ride straight into New York, essentially, home.
I need to buy some new leather motorcycle trousers; there is no getting away from it. My current pair are just too tight. I reckon half a day in those and my balls would end up either side of my neck.