Good grief, now a woman all the way in the Yoo K is fucking with my life.

Anyway the reason I haven’t been blogging of late is that the mother fucker wank bastard cock sucker arsewipe who contrived to have me leave suddenly from my last job of work finally got arse fucked himself.
Now, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m usually the first with the sympathy balm and the “forgive and forget” stuff.

But this time the world can go fuck.

Never has one snivelling apology for a man deserved what he got so much.
Enemabag has been getting grief from his twinkle-toed boss as they all think, rightly of course, that he sms’d me the word on the ass whipping.
In fact his fool of a boss rang to cry foul at my disseminating the news to all and sundry.
I’m afraid I had to employ the phrase “go eat dick you sad cunt”.

But that’s behind us now and my week of dancing on the grave of that twat is over.

Work is a wonder to me. Being your own boss is a dangerous thing.
Me: “Hey what do you think of this?”
Me: “Yer a fuckin’ genius lad”.
Me: “Let’s go have a drink…”

Nice to see Mr Kerry bitch slappin’ the Bush, sadly I fear that G.W. will prevail, the Americans being pointless little cunts who are scared of their own shadows.

I’ve been thinking about life lately. Mainly because I saw Shaun of the Dead, a mightly marvellous film. Unfortunately it is filmed in Crouch End where I spent my formative years so I was constantly going…”OOOOh there’s my house…” etc.

I had a Shrike running about my garden yesterday… spooky fucking bird. And the badgers were seriously unimpressed.

I keep laughing out loud in public places when I picture Hooperman on a off-road bike…Oh dear…”Nurse…”