Being off work sick for two days, sleeping and watching many episodes of Breaking Bad, wouldnât normally be something to complain about. After all, I wasnât in pain, even though I did feel like shite.
But I had a fucking ticket for yesterdayâs fucking match and I couldnât fucking go because I was fucking ill. Fuck.
You also had a ticket for Mondayâs Old Blokesâ Football but decided that youâd prefer to leave us in the lurch (4 v 5) and go home to watch Breaking Bad.
I know that whenever I feel ill the answer is to run around a freezing outdoor pitch with fat blokes trying to kick me - itâs even on the NHS website now as the best way to shake off a winter chill.
Yeah, nice one, The RaleighBoy.
Ouch!
How about you put your blindfold back on, finish your last fag, and stand between the posts.
Aim for the flowers on his shirt - it will be hard to miss.
when lots of things start to go wrong with your car just before the MOT is due
People exaggerating to justify an immediate course of action.
This morning, ms pap was shouting at Juvy #2, claiming that they needed to get to work and crucially that the car would run out of petrol if they didnât go immediately.
Now the car is a diesel, and I kept quiet about that technicality (largely because I know she does actually fill it with diesel) but I was out and about in it last night. According to the computer, it had 66 miles left when I parked up.
Sheâs got at most 15 miles of driving to do today in a city dotted with filling stations.
A small row was had. I may have called her a liar. When she tried to justify her claims with further claims, I asked if she was lying then too.
I feel a bit shit about it now. Granted, she was over-egging her case, but Iâve just gone down to the kitchen and discovered all the festive tuck sheâs bought me (that I asked for).
So, sat around pyjama-clad savouring a cup of tea while everyone else ran around frantically getting ready for a Monday morningâŚactually itâs diesel, dearâŚwell it had 66 miles on it last nightâŚyouâre a liarâŚmake that a double liar.
Bet that went down a storm. I reckon you should start sourcing some produce for the slap up dinner youâre making her tonight.
Iâll add the followingâŚa child that makes a miraculous recovery from illness when youâve rearranged your day completely (inconveniencing others in the process as well as missing a lecture from an academic pre-eminent in their field) to fit around them.
itâs quite annoying when you miss the turning off the motorway because youâre engrossed in a podcast youâre listening to and this end up adding 30 mins on top of a 90 mins journey. Fucking podcasts.
Painting a warehouse when itâs minus 2.
Whorehouse I could cope with.
what if it was minus 3?
The settings on toasters. Should really just be two according to mine. âcharredâ or âfuckâs sakeâ
Originally posted by @Goatboy
Originally posted by @Fatso
what if it was minus 3?
I would keep my tights on.
Crotchless?
what if itâs minus 4?
Originally posted by @BTripz
Originally posted by @Goatboy
Originally posted by @Fatso
what if it was minus 3?
I would keep my tights on.
Crotchless?
Theyâre from the Ripper range. Flap at the front.
Thereâs doubtless some Moscovian warehouse painter looking at this, saying in a thick local accentâŚ
ââŚfucking pussyâ