Six Charlies in search of a title
Ah, that unbelievable spaced out state of being that tells the body that night shift has come to stay again. The logic of taking three people and shoving them in a car in extremely thick and well fitting body warmers on the warmest night of the year for no gain whatsover and expecting them to remain awake throughout. And then doing it for twelve hours instead of the usual eight. Breaking in some new guys on the team last night; fresh out of training. Oh well, start them off as they mean to go on with a bunch of piss poor, half arsed shite. Hey ho. Deep joy.
Anyway's up.
Bimbled over to Northbank yesterday to pass greetings to the good lady Biro, an occaisional guest star on these pages; now hopefully in a position of "on the up" given the recent departure of Ming the Merciless. It's not my place to flag up other people's strife on my page so I shan't; other to say this lady's had to put up with far more shite than is reasonable for ten people and the little scrote concerned is bumping along the top of people I think should be castrated and put on a "total shite offender register". As I pulled up, was suprised to be waved at by a blonde pulling up in a car behind the GLC; was even more suprised when the mystery blonde turned out to be none other than on old cohort, the one and only Cossie Angel from the abandoned F board from the past, a coincidental arrival for a visit as she's in the neighbourhoood (and no, I wasn't blanking you hun, I couldn't identify you through the glass and mum told me not to talk to strangers!). One of the good eggs is our Pauline, and a helluva lot less of her there is too than there used to be - a whole lot of slimming going on. Unfortunately, a new member of the "my bloke turned out to be a tosser" club. Hey ho. Seems there's a lot of it about.
Coffee, jollification and lugging furniture about in the pit of dispair that was the Emperor Ming's private quarters. How one youngster (note, not "person") can render a tidy room into something that Portdon Down would be interested in to extract microbes to drop on the Russians in one month flat is a wonder. All too soon, the fun was over and it was time to head south again but midnight texts to my nightshift purgatory would indicate the good lady got a teethgritter on with it, decided that the room must die and beasted the lot into submission through disinfectant, air freshener and the EU binbag mountain. That achievement must be put in it's proper place folks, along with feeding the five thousand, and the north face of the Eiger. Kudos, hun xx
Anyway's up.
Bimbled over to Northbank yesterday to pass greetings to the good lady Biro, an occaisional guest star on these pages; now hopefully in a position of "on the up" given the recent departure of Ming the Merciless. It's not my place to flag up other people's strife on my page so I shan't; other to say this lady's had to put up with far more shite than is reasonable for ten people and the little scrote concerned is bumping along the top of people I think should be castrated and put on a "total shite offender register". As I pulled up, was suprised to be waved at by a blonde pulling up in a car behind the GLC; was even more suprised when the mystery blonde turned out to be none other than on old cohort, the one and only Cossie Angel from the abandoned F board from the past, a coincidental arrival for a visit as she's in the neighbourhoood (and no, I wasn't blanking you hun, I couldn't identify you through the glass and mum told me not to talk to strangers!). One of the good eggs is our Pauline, and a helluva lot less of her there is too than there used to be - a whole lot of slimming going on. Unfortunately, a new member of the "my bloke turned out to be a tosser" club. Hey ho. Seems there's a lot of it about.
Coffee, jollification and lugging furniture about in the pit of dispair that was the Emperor Ming's private quarters. How one youngster (note, not "person") can render a tidy room into something that Portdon Down would be interested in to extract microbes to drop on the Russians in one month flat is a wonder. All too soon, the fun was over and it was time to head south again but midnight texts to my nightshift purgatory would indicate the good lady got a teethgritter on with it, decided that the room must die and beasted the lot into submission through disinfectant, air freshener and the EU binbag mountain. That achievement must be put in it's proper place folks, along with feeding the five thousand, and the north face of the Eiger. Kudos, hun xx
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 12:53 pm
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