JESUS CHRIST! WHO MOVED MY HOUSE TO SATAN'S BUMHOLE WITHOUT TELLING ME! IT'S FUCKING HOT! I HAVE CANKLES! I'M SWEATING LIKE MICHAEL BARRYMORE IN A BROOM HANDLE SHOP! IT'S MOIST ENOUGH TO GROW CRESS IN MY GUNT! (Google it, kids). You have to have your windows open in this weather, and that of course lets the flies in. Now, just because I live in the vague vicinity of Salisbury Plain, does that mean that the local houseflies have to be the size of fucking Apache helicopters flying round my lounge? I have become a Death Ninja with the fly swatter, and I even swatted one the other day in mid air so hard that it splatted against the opposite wall. Don't fuck with me, you buzzing little bastards, because YOU WON'T WIN.
Right, that's the weather talk done. Let's get on to some moaning.
Recently, it was Pippa Middleton's wedding. WHO?, I hear you cry, and you might well ask. Pippa Middleton is Princess Katie's sister, the one who's ass was all over the Royal Wedding pictures. Now, I can understand her being in a few photos then, but we are now a few years down the line, Wills and Katie have been married enough years for Wills to call Katie 'Old Dyson' (doesn't suck anymore), so nowadays who gives ONE SINGLE FUCK about Pippa and her ass? Why was her wedding all over the papers? Every day? For fucking weeks? It is NOT NEWS. It is BOLLOCKS. She didn't even marry anyone remotely famous. The BEST thing that happened that day is that Katie was caught giving little George a bollocking behind a bush because he picked his nose in the official picture or something. Reminds me of the time one of my cousins trod in a dog turd at a family wedding just as he was on his way into church. I may have remembered this wrong (but never mind if I have, it's still funny) but I think my auntie made him take his shitty shoe off and wrapped it up in tissue and put it in her handbag for the duration of the service. Let's hope she didn't get mugged on the way home, those bag-snatchers would have been in for a brown surprise when rooting through their ill-gotten gains! Anyway, I digress - the point is, any old fucking NO-MARK like Pippa can get themselves in the papers these days, and all you have to do is get your sister to bone the future king. Simple.
Things that annoy me #942 - twats that limp like a bad man. You don't look like a bad man, you just look like you've got a particularly irritating verruca. Walk properly you absolutely fucking CHEESE-GLANDS. And while you're at it, stop talking like you're from The Bronx because you're not, you're from Dilton Fucking Marsh, and pull your fucking trousers up - I may have mentioned this before, but some years ago, there was a particularly funny story in the local paper about a total SADDLE-SNIFFER that had his trousers drooping round his ass like he was Snoopy Dogg Dogg, tripped over them, went down like a sack of shit and sustained a severe head injury on the pavement. I obviously wouldn't normally laugh at someone that has sustained a severe head injury, but in this instance I will make an exception. AHH HAHAHAHAHHAA YOU MASSIVE NOB. And he was probably more intelligent after the injury than before.
Saw Guns N Roses last week in London, they were AWESOME. They were either going to be shit or fabulous, and they were fabulous. We rocked for nearly three hours on a gloriously sunny day, to all the good old favourites and a couple of shit ones too. Well worth the FOUR HUNDRED FUCKING QUID it cost for four tickets. Plus 30 quid for a T shirt. Plus FIVE POUND FUCKING FIFTY A PINT. We dug out our old Guns N Roses tickets from Wembley in 1992 - 23 quid! Bargain! And we spoke to some kids who weren't even born in 1992! In fact I have a GNR T shirt that is older than them! Time is flying by so quickly - when did I suddenly become a nearly 44 year old porky old bag reliving her youth by relishing the opportunity to shout/sing 'WHY DON'T YOU JUST.........FUCK OFF!' really loudly along with 80 thousand other sweaty drunken buffoons? And that's exactly why I did spend silly money on the experience - because time flies and before you know it you're sat in a pile of your own excretia in the Sunnydale Home For The Terminally Incontinent - so enjoy yourself while you can!
So - fidget spinners. What's that all about? Apparently they're for people that fidget. Here's a novel idea - KEEP THE FUCK STILL. Kids fidget. It's what they do. We're too mollycoddling of kids these days. If I was fidgeting, my dad would just shout 'KEEP STILL!' and I would! For a minute at least. He wouldn't say 'ooo poor child keeps fidgeting, let's buy her the latest crappy fad to try and help her release all that pent up energy'. He'd say 'BUGGER OFF OUTSIDE AND PLAY'. Which is why I blame him for me being a fat, lazy bitch now. Because I used up all my energy when I was a kid and now I have no energy left to do anything except sit here and moan. If only he'd bought me a fidget spinner, I'd be nice and fit and thin wouldn't be growing mildew in my underboob in this FUCKING WEATHER!
Finally, today's Top Tip - OLD PEOPLE, TAKE YOUR FUCKING COATS OFF!
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