Yesterday was my birthday, but there was to be no "did I really sleep with a six month old Labrador?" morning hangover for me, oh no. My hopes of a night on the lash with me Dad were cruelly dashed on the rocks of despair when he took me Mum out for a bloody Chinese instead. On MY birthday. Can you believe it, because I surely can't. The dirty rotten tight bastards didn't even bring me a doggie bag back, not a spring roll nor kiss my canine arse. Zilch. Two hours in the dark. Just me and a pig's ear, that's all I got for my chuffin' birthday "present" - I use the word in it's loosest form. Well now we all know where we stand, I'll be making sure that they take the hint by leaving them lots of little presents of my own. Starting with the chocolate sausage I secreted round the back of the telly this morning. She NEVER cleans behind there the slovenly cow, so let's see how long it takes them to spot that rascal. I can't wait for me Dad to take his slippers off tonight neither, the fat bastard.
Is a sheepdog and his two-legged is a farmer. Frank was out with him in the tractor drilling wheat last autumn and they unearthed a rusty old lamp. So the farmer hopped out of the cab to have a closer look at it and gave it a little rub on his jacket, as you do, and was amazed to see a genie appear and offer to grant him any wish he wanted. Well the farmer thought for a moment and then said "I'd like the price of wheat to go to £200/tonne!" So the genie sighed but said "OK, I'll sort that out for you then, you greedy bastard" and popped back into his bottle. And the farmer casually tossed the lamp into the back of his cab and got on with his drilling. Well they were out again this morning putting a bit of nitrogen on, Frank and the farmer, and the farmer spotted the lamp and gave it a little rub again, just on the off chance, and you'll never guess what happened, the genie popped out again, and said that he'd grant the farmer one more wish. So the fa...