I fucking ROCK!

What? Why are you looking like that? Oh, sorry- CUNT.

CUNT

is offensive, She tells me. If I could ask your assistance then, which do you prefer, flange or minge? Or maybe you have a better name for a lady's axe-wound? Let me know by clicking below.

Hey! I'm a poet and I didn't realise!

Good news, everybody!

Them daffs is growing. No flowers yet, but I can see some leafs. I spotted a couple of crocus leafs also as well.

I'm Not Racist, but...

...foreign call centres are really starting to fuck me off. Apart from being unnerving (okay, so I am), THEY DON'T SPEAK FUCKING ENGLISH! I am made a payment? Am I? So why did I have to call you? Surely it's because I'm not made a payment? Yeah, say it louder, then I'll understand. Louder still? Got it. Tell you what, you check with your supervisor. He's probably got a dictionary. Anyway, it seems that if you ignore the foreign ones, you get upgraded to the English ones. Which is now the stage I'm at. Bankruptcy here I come.

Lloyds TSB, I'm looking in your direction...

I can smell your cunt.

Yes I can.

Shit!

I blocked the bog! What a fucking idiot! It was only toilet paper. That the decorations were wrapped in last year and I couldn't be bothered to replace. They were just taking up space in the box, so it made sense to dispose of it in the place it goes. There was a lot of it, but it fitted in. And I'm buggered if I'm gonna be picking baubles out of that water. It was a shit one anyway. Was a bit scary when the water level started rising towards the rim (not mine, I was standing up), but it stopped just short of the top. Note: Toilets, or ours at least seem to have the ability to drain water from under the rim. Where it comes out. Thinking about it, it was probably just the water going down, and thereby allowing air under it that made it gurgle. Though I'm sure the bleach foam was being sucked towards it.
Anyway, it was going down very slowly. VERY slowly. I had a feel round the bend with some rubber gloves, but couldn't reach anything. If you ever bung up your crapper and feel the need to stick your hand down it, make sure you wear long gloves. I didn't. I also tried shoving a spare shower hose up it, to no avail. Dunno whether it hit a bend it couldn't do, but it wasn't moving. Looked in a DIY book. It said I needed a special giant plunger or a kind of rod thing. Fuck that. So I rang my dad.
No answer on the mobile. So I rang his house. And was transferred across (one c? I think so). Phew. He suggested either putting a hose up and squirting or using a wet cloth as a plunger. Bollocks to the hose. I got the rat's towel. Yes, the rat's towel. after emptying a bit out with a too-big bucket it cleared with one go of the towel. Definitely one to try next time.

The moral? Don't put things in the loo that don't go there. Or too much of what does.

Hopefully then, my lovelies, this sorry tale will be of some use to one of you cunts and you won't have to go through what I did. I still smell of bleach. Though I doubt it. So fuck you all.

Thank fuck the Lady was out with her sisters and mother shopping for bridesmaid's dresses (for her sister's wedding). There would have been all sorts of panic, tears, call to plumbers and bollocks like that if she hadn't. I worked up a sweat though when time wore on.

Incidentally, if you are ever invited to watch Bad Santa with your partner's family, or if they suggest, say, you get it on paper-view, politely decline. They may be mildly offended, but you won't have to sit through a film with them what every sentence seems to contain the word "fuck", often preceded by the word "mother", and where the protagonist is abnormally obsessed with seeing to women in the manner which has the effect of rendering them unable to "shit right for a week". A surprising number of sex scenes for a Christmas film.

Bad Santa
@*!#$

You have been warned. Now fuck off.

I'm tired.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

Liam Neeson strung up and stuck through with a knife. About bloody time. Kids can't act for shit, and this film's not changed my opinion. But they did a better job than that fucking witch. What knob-head cast that one? The beavers saved this film. I don't remember anything in the book about Cair Paravel being a fucking cricket pavilion, neither. That boring one would get it in a couple of film's time, but until then I'll make do with the older Lucy.

*****

Sorry about that folks

...Appears I was due some national service is the Venezuelan Army. I'm not supposed to be back yet, but you won't tell, will you? Will you? If they ever ask you, tell them thanks, but no thanks. I've never met such a shouty lot in all my life. So what else have I done? Thanks for asking, It really means a lot to me that you're so interested. You cunt. Speaking of which, do this: Worst Job. Don't get scared, it's an MP3 from a real website, so it's fine. Really.

Ah, yes cunts. Well, I planted me daffs, my dad did get back to me, but after the event. For fuck's sake. When I saw what that fuckhead what replied to the last post did for a living, I almost shit myself, till I saw his name wasn't my dad's. But then (you might wanna sit down) this isn't my name. Had you fucking going there, diddle I cunts? Well, I managed to get back home in time for Christmas, but just about. Christmas eve bye the time I fucking turned up on Mother's doorstep. Only just beat the Holy Father himself. That means Santa, right?

Been to school. I've got a new school. It's a nice school. Got my first reall observation on Tuesday. Is year sevens, shouldn't be a problem. I'll let you know, my darlings.

I'm gonna take the Chrimbo deccys down today, I really think I ought to. After breakfast though.

Love you all.

xxxx

Oh. My. God.

Did you see that? I've got a celebrity! I now know that at least 2 people have looked at this without me telling them to. To be fair though, one of them knows me in real-space and the other, while having been on telly (rather than just in telly - how lame is that?), I would perhaps rather he hadn't seen it. Still, he's doubled my "fanbase". After discussion with the in TV cunt, I would like to point out the the staying indoors comment was a reference to the global community of geeks and the deminishing, but still significantly, immobile nature of our crash-friendly chums.

So how deep do daffodils go? I asked my Dad via the medium of SMS (I can't remember the last time I used me voice to communicate over a mobile phone. The wonders of technology. Wonders, or blunders? Fuck off, Homer. And relax...), but as yet I've had no reply. I've been noticing that recently. I can only presume he's either changed his number, broken his phone, or he's starting to realise how much he truly hates me. Anyway, I had a go, guessing as I went, and managed to plant about 5 bulbs before I broke the small spade (trowel?) I was using. Actually, I did about two, but then I put the four candle (Goodbye, Ronnie) on it which allowed me to carry on briefly. Thanks for the thought mum, sorry I broke your presents. I'll go into town today, see if I can find some stuff that I might not break so soon. Might try Wilkinsons. Seen stuff in there before. Might even treat myself to a big fork. If you want to know, check back next spring and, if I remember, I'll tell you if any of me daffs is grown.

Is it lunch time soon? I'm hungry...

But my pockets are full!

I did some work today! In that I watched a program on Teacher's TV about some things called "blogs" and how they are being used in West Blatchington School presented by a guy called Steve O'Hear. Who seems to be some kind of super-geek trying to convince the world to go indoors. Anyway, I had an Idea (the sort that requires a capital letter). If a small man in a wheel chair can do it, then perhaps I might even be able to. I need to carry out an ICT project for university, involving some kids. Could I, perhaps, get them blogging? Could they blog their lessons or their thoughts or some such crap? I reckon it could work, seeing as my Virtual Workspace idea (small one) probably won't happen, as the school needs to be registered with them. So here I am, feeling a bit milk-sick and getting a numb arse from sitting on the PC (no chairs, see), trying to do some better stuff with my blog so that, should the opportunity arise, I will be able to use this and turn a whole new set of kids on to the pleasures of sitting in a room on their own looking at a computer screen.

So look out, you cunts (was it worth the wait?) for a lovely, clean blog by my "teaching" alter-ego, and possible some by some kids, though I couldn't tell you which school they'll be from, as the University of Wolverhampton has yet to bother to arrange a placement. Ace. Well done lads, it's much appreciated (Wolves Uni = cunts)