Apparently, the cuckoo clock tells me, I have been absent from these shores for three months.
Unsurprisingly, I have been holding my head under water to see if the world will go away. It hasn't. What a surprise!
I have no musical theme to my current and probable last regurgitation: perhaps 'Pretty Vacant' could fill your ears?
The cheek relates to the thieving squatter and his family that has failed to pay my rent and has lied in an English Court of Law. No news there, then. Just more debt.
The jowl relates to my own impending sag-jawed descent into old-age: not only am I a grey-beard but I now discern dewlaps. Personal embarrassment.
Given all this, and the complete unwillingness of the building society to play ball, I have to shoot everyone and then turn the gun inward.
I'd like to say it's been fun, but it hasn't.
No comments:
Post a Comment