This Winter

I have caught a cold. I really wish snot didn't come out wet and dry hard. It just means I've got wet pockets and a scratched nose. You know how fucking delicate I am. Oh! The Agony!

x

His fucking head's fallen off!

But he still thinks you're a twat!

His misfortune betrays my construction methods though. I had to cut his head in half to lift it up! Being alone, (but not single - sorry ladies) as I currently am, I had no help, you see. I couldn't roll the body any bigger, neither. Snow gets really heavy when it gangs up. I finally understand how people die in avalanches. The eagle-eyed amongst you may notice another unfotunate accident to befall Monsieur Snow. There I go again. Soz.

I'll do it here though.

"Cheers cunt", I wittily retorted. Well, what else is there?

An Idiot and a Moron

I bet you thought I'd left you. Well I haven't. I almost wrote a couple of days ago, in fact. But it took our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ (see below) to bring me fully back.

To this end, I offereth unto thee a transciption of the conversation I was smited with on my walk home from the tram station, after I had been at work for 9 1/2 hours (more on that later). It seems, witnessing the decline in church attendance of recent years, the dark streets of Wolverhampton have found themselves the subject of a bit of a recruitment drive by the aforementioned nuts.

Enter Old Woman, Myself (moving to walk around OW as she crosses my path).

Old Woman: "Excuse me, can you tell me where the Catholic church is?"

Not being convinced she was truly looking for it, and not wishing to enter into a conversation on my religious tendencies with a woman wearing a placard of Jesus' face, I replied politely, but not apologetically.

Myself (still walking): "I couldn't say I can."

Sensing, somehow, that I did not know where the church was, and perhaps also that I wasn't particularly interested in finding out, she informed me of her disappointment.

Mad Woman: "Then you're an idiot and a moron! You don't even know where the Catholic church is and you live here! Idiot!"

Not wishing to appear to keen by displaying my surging enthusiasm, I did answer her criticism, but I'm ashamed to say I did so by thanking her and voicing an opinion on her own character, using possibly less than savoury words, which for the purposes of being taken seriously I shall not repeat here.

Having said this, I do respect that woman. I wouldn't walk around Wolverhampton in the dark shouting things like that at men twice my size.

x

Witness, right, a 2-hour, one-man snowie formed dans le jardin by moi last Thursday. I know you can't see it, but my gesture is merely mimicking that of the Homme de Neige. Pardon my French, I don't know what's happening to me. Carpe Diem, as non-members say.