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Saturday 14 November 2009
Cock gobbling fuck farts
Is there any fucking thing worse than being dragged out of bed by a chirpy relative who doesn't realise that NORMAL FUCKING PEOPLE SLEEP IN ON A FUCKING SATURDAY MORNING?
10 comments:
Schlumpf23
said...
Guess that doesn't make me a normal fucking person... Always had my suspicions! I'm certainly not chirpy though, bitter, angry & pissed off more like.
Ha! You should savour the delights of my basement flat where the upstairs inhabitants clatter about like Flamenco dancers in hobnailed boots at 7 EVERY fucking morning; and think nothing of slapping on some six-fingered good-ole boy thigh slapping total SHITE redneck rockabilly with a doublebass going thumpThumpthumpThumpthumpThump and some twat knocking seven shades of shit out of a snaredrum interminably, starting at 9a.m. on Sunday for the duration of the day just when the missus and I are thinking about a leisurely slobfest over a decent fryup and several relaxing cuppas. Bastards. At least you can put the phone down on a relative. Yours or Mrs. Clown's, anyway? Could be difficult diplomatically.....
10 comments:
Guess that doesn't make me a normal fucking person... Always had my suspicions! I'm certainly not chirpy though, bitter, angry & pissed off more like.
These days my middle name is grumpy.
wv: fight
Is it trying to tell us something?
Sorry dad..
What? All of a sudden you're not master of your own destiny?
On a Saturday of all days?
Tell them to fuck off. Cunts.
I thought exactly the same fucking thing this morning. Although it was only my bloody budgie chirping away. Fucking thing ain't nothing but trouble...
Can I come up from the cellar yet..?
I was shifted from in front of the tv this morning by the Jehovah Squad.
does that count?
Don`t sleep with your fucking relative`s then !
Our bonsai tigers ((C) AlJahom) keep waking us up.
Play, eat, sleep...in the next life I'm coming back as a fucking cat.
Ha! You should savour the delights of my basement flat where the upstairs inhabitants clatter about like Flamenco dancers in hobnailed boots at 7 EVERY fucking morning; and think nothing of slapping on some six-fingered good-ole boy thigh slapping total SHITE redneck rockabilly with a doublebass going thumpThumpthumpThumpthumpThump and some twat knocking seven shades of shit out of a snaredrum interminably, starting at 9a.m. on Sunday for the duration of the day just when the missus and I are thinking about a leisurely slobfest over a decent fryup and several relaxing cuppas. Bastards.
At least you can put the phone down on a relative. Yours or Mrs. Clown's, anyway? Could be difficult diplomatically.....
wv:jiztick
My feelings exactly.
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