With your annoying fucking bastard fucking texts. I don't want tickets to see "Being Tommy Cooper" right. He was shit (and a wife beater too, allegedly) when he was alive so I don't suppose his act has got any fucking better now that the useless lanky fez topped fucker is pushing up the fucking bastard daisies has it? "The brand new sensational show celebrating Britain's all time favourite comedian" That's a pretty fucking bold statement as well isn't it? If he was that fucking good then you wouldn't have to resort to texting fucking Border Terriers like me to try to persuade me to go to see the sad fucker's show would you, you useless gang of twats. Get to fuck with your fucking reminders about how many fucking free bastard fucking texts I've got left as well you fuckwits. I'm trying to dig a fucking tunnel here, I haven't got time for you and you're text spam shite. Have I made myself clear? Oh, and happy birthday to me Mum. And thanks for that bacon this morning. You couldn't throw them left over sausages in with me tea tonight could you? Ta.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.