My beauty sleep was rudely disturbed this morning by a weird and very loud noise. Bloody hell, the central heating system is about to explode, I thought. But no, next door have decided to have cavity wall insulation installed. At 8am. To keep disruptions to a minimum they've fucked off out for the day, the van is parked three quarters of the way across our pissing drive so that they can get out, and some twat in overalls is hammer drilling his way around the house. So whilst they are off doing whatever they are doing, me Dad is trying to work from home with the phones ringing and everyone shouting "WHAT'S THAT FUCKING NOISE? ARE YOU ON THE HARD SHOULDER OF THE M1 OR SOMETHING?" Judging by his answers I think I must have caught my Tourettes from him, which is a cue to do my the teacher asks Little Johnny to come up with a sentence containing the word "contagious" joke, but I suspect that you've probably already heard it. And if you haven't you can probably guess how it goes anyway. Pooh count: three. No prizes for guessing who's letterbox they will be going through later. And it will save on the stamps too, always a little Brucie Bonus that.
Would people queue for hours to panic buy pissing stamps. Only in Britain would the Post Office ration the number of stamps that people could buy. And only in Britain would the newspapers fill themselves up with full page stories about it for Christ's sake. "Colin, 34, from Basildon said he'd camped outside the Post Office in sub-zero temperatures all night just to buy two dozen first class stamps. I'd have bought more if they'd let me, he said defiantly." What a tosser, haven't these incredibly sad bastards got better things to do? These are the same arseholes that were stopping normal people getting petrol just a couple of weeks ago. "The car's full, but I've got six empty pickle jars and a couple of empty Sainsbury's bags here." Pooh count: two, just five minutes apart they were yet completely different colours and consistencies. Nature is truly amazing isn't it?