Monkeys Fist

So, to add to the rat panic, Mrs. F. got stuck in traffic this morning and broke down. Rang the AA who asked “ Is it over heating” She said “ No, it’s in Waalka you posh cunt!”

You can use this one next time your knees collapse and you nearly drop a Fishlet!

The scene- Kitchen and Living Room of House of Gemmill in downtown Wideopen, a ceramic clatter rings out from the kitchen … Gemma- “ Oops, sorry let, I dropped your “Worlds Best 2nd or 3rd Wife… I Forget” mug that I ordered from that lad in Boldon!” Mrs. Gemma II/III- “ WHAT??? Any damage you utter clutz?” Gemma- “ Nah, just a chip, like my avulsion fracture I’ve only just recovered from” Mrs. Gemma II/III - “ A CHIP???? So you’ve … … BROKEN IT!!!”

Any of these little cunts from inside are getting fucking hoyed straight at the diggers, no bag, nowt.

So, there’s construction work going on within 20 yards of my back garden at the minute, aside from the dust and noise, one of the other pleasantries this has caused is fucking rats. Caught about 8-10 of the fucking things over the last month or so, all in the back garden. Neighbours all along the back lane are having the same trouble. Yesterday, to add to the joy, our erstwhile mutt went in to “prey sighted” mode, in our kitchen, pointing and growling like fuck at the baseboard of our kitchen units. Pulled the cooker and dishwasher out… … fuck’s sake, the bastards have moved inside with the cold weather. Down to Screwfix for more traps, filled any hole more than 1mm I could find in the house walls, then waited. 06:07 this morning, dog starts going apeshit, Mrs. F. ran in to the kitchen, heard squeaking from behind the dishwasher, and promptly had a full blown panic attack. Trouble is, at 06:07 this morning, I was parked up just north of Bristol, waiting to get in to a yard to tip. Phone goes, screaming and blubbering, panicky breathing, she’s about to run out of the house… what a fuck on man I rang my bro-in-law who lives round the corner, he went round and pulled the baseboards out, saw two of the hairy little fuckers, set the traps and calmed my gibbering Mrs. down. He reckons they’re coming up from the drain somehow. Waiting now on the council pest control to come and do their thing. Mrs. will be in full “disinfect the entire fucking house and every single item in it” mode, and I’m not back until Saturday morning. Anyone posting the UB-fucking-40 song can … As you were gents.

Odds on Trump giving him a post that doesn’t require external approval?

Went to the doctor yesterday. “ How can I help?” ” I’ve got knee problems Doc” ” Well then fuck off home and stop wasting my time”

Most of the money ended up in a hedge fund.

Ewerk’s first board meeting…

This is not actually my garage door, nor did I have owt to do with the painting of it. FYI

Fyp

Speaking of pie charts… Here’s a bar graph of my progress painting the side garage door.

Evergreen Shrub Shrub Shrub Shrub Water Feature Hardy Annual Statue Raised Bed Fire Pit Pergola

If I remember from the last one I went to, French teacher, English teacher and one of the Science teachers were all bankable. 👍

Violet Winspear. Never married, no kids. Said she imagined her male leads had to be “capable of rape”.

What is “parents evening”?

Bow down to the true Queen, bitchez

The plan is to put decoy missile silos on uk farmland which exceeds the inheritance tax values. Once Mad Vlad slings a few janky owld bits of 1990s Russian missiles at them, they’ll drop in value and won’t be eligible for IT Sorted. ( We can start by putting a full fake tactical warfare HQ and missile factory on Clarksons gaff.

I’d happily throw my man-eggs her way

We need more radge bastards in politics RIP

No- fit as a fiddle and not a pick of excess fat on him right to the end. He wasn’t scarfing these abominations down twice a day mind, once a fortnight/month ish.

My Dad would occasionally give himself a treat - Sticky Milk Sandwich. No, it’s not jizz on toast, it’s a big fuck-off doorstep of white bread, with condensed milk spread over it , and then, just to guarantee the heart attack, about half a ton of white sugar sprinkled over the lot. Straight out of the Ration Book. He’d offer me one every time he made it, but I never took him up on it.