Sunday, 18 May 2008
Friday, 9 May 2008
It a big secret I should hear
I over hear hushed voices
"When should we tell him"
"Theres never a good time"
"He isnt old enough yet"
I have a sinkin feeling that I am adopted, but i know that i am not.
I wait many years to find me the truth and when I do it like a steam train.
"When should we tell him"
"Theres never a good time"
"He isnt old enough yet"
I have a sinkin feeling that I am adopted, but i know that i am not.
I wait many years to find me the truth and when I do it like a steam train.
Introducing Billy the Twat
Billy the twat, is the nemesis of my uncle eddie.
I cant stand him with a passion.
Can you imagine a man stuck in the 70's with a big bald head, busy eyebrows, tweed jackets and moleskin trousers. A know it all bastard who likes to tend to his bonsai and his gladioli.
With a wife to match, big buofont permed hair and flowery dresses.
He is my mothers brother and always looks down his nose at my dad, he thinks he is better than anyone else. He is so far up himself, the horticultural society thinks he is a new species of daffodil.
His wife picks me up one day and tells me to avoid the dogs dirt on the pavement, I dont avoid it and it ends up in the back of her car. Oh dear.
Likewise, if I have to play hide the fucking grape one more time in her retro 70's living room, with a poxy bunch of artificial plastic graps, I think that I might explode.
More on billy the twat and his wife later.
I cant stand him with a passion.
Can you imagine a man stuck in the 70's with a big bald head, busy eyebrows, tweed jackets and moleskin trousers. A know it all bastard who likes to tend to his bonsai and his gladioli.
With a wife to match, big buofont permed hair and flowery dresses.
He is my mothers brother and always looks down his nose at my dad, he thinks he is better than anyone else. He is so far up himself, the horticultural society thinks he is a new species of daffodil.
His wife picks me up one day and tells me to avoid the dogs dirt on the pavement, I dont avoid it and it ends up in the back of her car. Oh dear.
Likewise, if I have to play hide the fucking grape one more time in her retro 70's living room, with a poxy bunch of artificial plastic graps, I think that I might explode.
More on billy the twat and his wife later.
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