Man i seem to be rolling these old ducks off like $50 bills in a wh*re house.
Another day, another fossil and this f*cking chilly Tuesday morning sees me reporting for rolecall in the direction of Stonehenge. I am about to meet the headmistress from hell and her heinous venom-spitting, pernicious poes-y cat for a couple of weeks of fun in the countryside. Countryside spelt OHMYGODIFTHIS TURNSINTOANOTHERF*CKINGWALESJOBIMSCREWED. I can only imagine the look on the woman's face as i asked her over the phone "do you have chickens by any chance?". Or, depending on the volume of her hearing aid, "Has Charles Dickens taken you up the arse?". That would account for much gasping and stretching of one's eyes i suppose. The question, not the act. Mind you... URGH enough!
Anyway, i have ascertained that the only foul fowl belong to the neighbours and shan't be requiring any wrangling for the duration of my stay. Thank god. Now i can focus all my attention on the bitchy little poes-y cat.
07 November 2006
Hello Kitty
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4 comments:
Does Charles Dickens own a rocket? Never mind. You might need to add a footnote on that last sentence of yours: "For full effect, get a Safrican to read this to you"
Wrangler: Come back. Where are you? Come tell us how its going...
I'm still alive!! Can anyone spell REMOTE? I've been here 10 days and no sign of a shop where i can buy a bag of maltesers, let alone technology which will allow me to connect to that fancy thing known as the world wide web. It's painful. But there are no chickens. Trying to post this via wap but not sure if it'll work. Can't log into blogger (idiots) so thought i'd try the comment route... Fingers crossed. Hell, SO much to tell...
She's alive. Halleluja! We were concerned some "purple rinse" had finally turned you round the bend and you were living as doris the pigeon wisperer in a drain somewhere.
Cant wait to hear all.
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