EE And Tommy

Me Dad says that when EE told him he had unlimited calls and texts that he didn't realise that they meant from people saying that they have been trying to get hold of him about his recent accident. Fuck off you twats. We've been trying to get hold of you, we've got the money, don't worry about that, just give us your bank details and we'll wang it on in there this afternoon. What, you haven't had an accident. Don't worry about that, they've coughed up anyway. It'll be our little secret. He still hasn't heard back from that son of the prince of wherever it was that needed his help to get that money out of Nigeria just after the prince was killed in that plane crash. I say, I say, I say, my guide dog's got no nose. Really, how does it smell? (Jumps) Who the fuck said that? I made that up meself. Here's another. What's yellow and cooks dogs? No, not Kim Sun Young, me Dad's car! Fucking sweltering in there is was this morning when I put Tommy Knocker in. The fucking muppet. They said on the telly the other night that 15 minutes in a hot car can give a dog brain damage. That's leaping to the wild assumption that the said canine has a fucking brain to start with, which in Tommy's case is clearly not true. And fuck me, that boy can shit. You don't so much need a pooh bad as a fucking skip to cart that lot away. The highest mountain in England isn't Scarfell Pike any more I can tell you. It's hanging out the back of Tommy's arse. You want to hear the noise he makes when he licks his own bollocks as well. Fucking deafening racket it is, like someone stirring a bucket of blancmange vigorously with a hand-held blender. Makes me want to fucking throw it does, the dirty bastard. He's doing it again now, I'll have to go...