Hmmmmm...Sweet Nothings....
Overheard taking Tess the shit machine for her late evening "....Because you've asked me the same fuckin' question four fuckin' times for fuck's sake. You're a boring fucker you fuckin'.....fuckin'......fuckin' arsin' fuckin' WHELK!"
Whelk?
Laugh? I nearly died.
She probably wants to be "famous" as a continuity announcer on TV one day. Mind you, who knows, one day she probably will.
Bombs, panic, death, alerts, all-clears, controlled explosions, traffic chaos, closed tube stations, news crews on every street corner intent on that definitive vox-pop, that "tear-in-the-eye", that "catch-in-the-throat": "that could've-been-me" moment.
Long weekend in London anyone? Paris maybe? Madrid? Anywhere? I don't think so do you?
I mean, I'm all for "business as usual", "stiff upper lip" etc., but a nice break in the Yorkshire Dales just might be the ticket for me.
Remind me to tell you what complete and utter pricks Parceline are.
2 comments:
I once knew a Transport Manager who couldn't say a sentence without including the word 'fuck'... infact he would often put 'fuck' in the middle of a word, such as fanfuckintastic. Once, when asked about the availability of a van, he replied with the phrase tha the "fucking fucker's fucked." Priceless.
Have you thought of the possibility that he was indeed a whelk returning from a fancy dress party, eh?
Never thought of that, did you?
Just another example of shellfish getting a bad name :)
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