i’ve turned; this’ll get sweary

i’m behind; i’m behind on work, i’m behind on blog reading, i’m behind on blog writing, i’m behind on writing this fucking letter that i’ve been meaning to write for fucking ages and i just can’t bring myself to carry on; i’ve written a bit of it and now i can’t be shagged, and some fucking cunt keeps stealing my mop, how hard is it to put it back where you fucking found it, and not leave it in a bucket of shitty water either; take it, by all means take the fucking thing, mop the pissing car park with it, deliver calves with it, fuck yourself up the arse with it until you haemorrhage, i don’t care, just so long as you put it back in the fucking cupboard where i left it you fucking wanker; you don’t know who you are; i could leave a great fucking note on it, ‘will the bollock brain who keeps dumping this fucking mop wherever his retarded brain that is in fact a bollock feels like fucking dumping it, stop fucking dumping it wherever his brain that is in fact a bollock feels like fucking dumping it, you fucking prick,’ and old bollock brain would walk up to it, read the note and say, “oo someone’s pissed this mop off haven’t they, i best use it and then leave it in a bucket of shitty water somewhere,” why don’t i just write the fucking letter; with each wasted tap of these stupid keys i could be letter composing, i could be saying, “well my dear i used to knock around with soe during the war, finnish is my bag; can’t stand german, love the people though; however i knew a girl once who spoke a bit of german, good conversational german; i fell in love with her and it seems the german language too, though only when spoken by her, i mean you, i think i’ve got sidetracked; i think it was the welsh wanker at the bar who really fucked me off tonight; just an obnoxious twat, thinking that without him i’d just be sleeping or something, that i don’t actually have actual fucking work to do; he’s somehow doing me a favour through his very existence and presence at the bar and i should be grateful that someone of his calibre is keeping me off the streets, and his hilarious wank jokes the epitome of comedic genius, fuckend, i hope he gets the squits; i know why i’m not writing the letter, there’s just no point; there’s no point in anything, i have a vague hope at the back of my mind that spouting this shit will make me feel better because, as we all fucking know, a hundred and twelfth time’s a charm; it used to work when i sent this shit to her; it wasn’t the cathartic process of outpouring that helped, it was just her, it was always and only her, and now i have a horrible feeling that whilst it was just a slim possibility before, it has now become a great big fucking hulk of a certainty that i will never see her again and all i have are just a bunch of stupid shitting memories that sometimes i could really fucking do without; i can taste her now, and i just don’t want to; i can see the smile on her face and the look in her eye the last time she straddled me on the chair in her kitchen; stupid cunting welshman; two moths at a mcdonald’s drive-through, one says to the other, “i hate this fucking place; all it stands for is abhorrent to me, yet here i am waiting on a sloppy big mac made from an unspecified animal’s sphincter, fries wetter than an incontinent’s bed sheets and a milk shake hand-wrung from those very same sheets; i’ve no desire to go on facebook nor use it as a verb, but i admired it ’til last night; zuckerberg you twat; you deliberately laid your first tile on the road to macdonalddom; there weren’t enough people doing that for you it seems,” the other moth says, “which window did they say? i missed what window they said; i hate it when that happens, i just wanna slit my wrists, or at least regress back to being a caterpillar; it was so much simpler then, no fucking stupid shitty fucking cunty welshmen to deal with, twat,” and then they both got dysentery and wrote a fucking book about overcoming obstacles that only they know about but everyone’s supposed to have empathy with; it’s the mop, it’s the fucking bastard cunty mop; where the shitting hell is it; i don’t even care, it saves me a job; one’ll turn up and i’ll find another hiding place for it, but this time i’ll not tell any fucker at all; when bollock brain asks i’ll say i don’t know, as some fucking bollock brain put it somewhere and i can’t fucking find it………it’ll make me fucking laugh

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10 Comments

  1. Hey, we all need to blow off steam now and then…
    I find the German language less than sexy… too much phlegm involved, and not in a good way…
    Look on the sunny side of life, you wont be here that long…

    Reply
    • i know but the equiatic bind count is increasing hourly…..

      Reply
      • You can feel it.

      • you should read this guy’s stuff by the way; very amusing – the equiatic bind

      • Sorry, but my reading list is all booked up, with you and a few people, until I finish someone’s.

      • i do get the impression that there really aren’t enough hours in the day for you! no need to apologise though; i didn’t tell him you’d be on your way…..i wonder if he’ll read this….

      • Whatever I do means giving up that much time doing other things I wish I could do… sigh…

      • oh bless….well don’t waste any more time with this thread then; i fear it may go nowhere, so please don’t reply to this comment, in fact stop even reading it….right now….i hope you’re not reading this……are you still reading this? you are? what did i say?! i said stop reading didn’t i………..you’re still reading it, i can tell by the way your lips are moving……………………………………………………………………………………………ok all joking aside now, i’ve actually got stuff to be getting on with

      • OK, that one sucked me in like a black hole.

      • you’ve no idea how hard it was not to go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on….it was really hard

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