Pork scratchings for dogs they are. So imagine my disgust to find that Me Mum & Dad's equivalent of Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard is bare of them. Pig's ears bereft we are in our house. And why is that I'm sure you are wondering. The answer would appear to be that my penny-pinching surrogate parents couldn't bring themselves to fork out more for a packet of pig's ears in Asda today than the weekend's Sunday roast joint cost. Yes, nearly seven fuckin quid it was for a packet of pig's ears apparently. Seven quid. Somebody is clearly taking the piss, and by doing so depriving me of my lunchtime treat. The dirty robbing bastards. Pound for pound a pig's ear is comfortably the most expensive part of it's body. In fact, on a pound for pound basis pig's ears are now more expensive in Asda than fuckin fillet steak! So what the fuck is going on there then? Fuckin, fuckety bastard fuck is all I can say.
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...