Tuesday, 15 November 2011

So Let Your Cold Blue Lonely Strings Cry Once Again For Me

Blowjobs are a lot like cricket: They're fun to do, but boring to watch...very boring.

As I have not bust a nut in nearly 3 months I have trawled the interwebs many times over – looking under every rock and through every cache dump for good porn that I have not already seen. I feel much like those hard pushed trawler men, squeezed by EU regulations and despairing over the depleted stocks – they work the same land, float over the same space, and come up with the same shit, maybe many times over.

I had to get a man out to look at my light today as Party Time in one of his Tarzan moods jumped off the stairs from halfway up caught hold of the light and tried to swing across the hall on it – or that's probably what he thought would happen in his cave-painting-rendered mind's eye, - but what he achieved in doing in the 3d dimensions was pull the light, the fitting, and a big square of plaster board down on top of himself. Now there is a big hole in the ceiling where a bat got through last night. I screamed the house down when I saw it. I am afraid of things that can fly. I screamed to Party Time, “Catch it! Catch it,” and he, the big mongoloid, gets his lead pellet rifle out from his sports bag and shoots after the thing, round and round and round the room in circles. I hit the deck and lil Gore Vidal, the cat, got a round right in the foot.

When he got it at last, right through the middle, the thing conveniently fell straight in the empty fish tank that sits on the mantle. Party Time, with great haste, like he were handling a bomb that were gonna go off any second, took the fish tank up and took it out the front door and threw it into the street with a loud smash.
 - What the fuck are you doin? - went I.
 - Gatling rad of dad bat. It bad luck in thah hase! - said Party Time, matter of factly.

The bastard had completely ruined my living room. All the pictures were smashed, three of my records had had rounds put through em, poor lil Gore Vidal the cat had a sore foot and the walls had god knows how many holes right the way around – so much so I got the impression temporarily I were standing INSIDE a teabag.
 - Party Time! You have destroyed my house! And when the man comes round from housing to fix the light you broke he is going to see the state of the place and have me turfed outta here!!
 - Ah am sarah, Danny. But ah hove plan – wot wah yast tah dah back hame – after a shat-at and be-fore thah 5-0 came ovah!
 - Oh God in heaven help me, - I shuddered...

I fell down into my lovely big armchair, trying to ignore the various yellow foam spewing wounds all over the material. I could feel, at my back, over half a dozen rounds lodged in the stuffing. I nearly cried, too, when I remembered there is this dark brown slime that has started coming up into the toilet from the drains. Every time it happens its accompanied by this faint howling. I got a medium pal of Mother's fancy man Nirab round to investigate and she told me the place is overrun by demons...

So I stuck this un on the turntable, cos it were the closest to hand and conveniently expressed how I were feeling...

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