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Wednesday, 30 October 2013

In which One is encouraging all and sundry to ‘slap the sausage’…

Am going quietly bonkers…

NDN’s have found a small area that hasn’t been drilled/banged/dug up and have employed the Scotch Banger again.  Currently he is drilling the living shite out of an area approximately two centimetres from my right ear.

Coupled with that, the fecking scaffolders have completely blocked my back door, steps into the garden and rear entrance.   Ooooh Matron!

Sales figures in for October are complete rubbish!  A more correct description would be ‘non-sales figures.’  Still, the bubble had to burst one day and One thinks One has sold the last print of Brixham Sunset EVER -  Have been dining out on that one for six years though!

N has mooted the ‘Stairs of Death’ for One’s doings on the Barbican…

First it’s the window, then the back wall – then – THE STAIRS OF DEATH

Well, as One said, it had to end some time…

Lovely One is not in the least precious about One’s art and is perfectly well adjusted to accepting that you selfish, shite faced, b******s have come to the end of your spending spree where Lovely One is concerned.

SEE IF I CARE

One is carefully considering a whole new career…

One is toying with the possibility of entering the sex trade.

NO YOU FOOLS – Not offering the random use of One’s twinkling device… Pray no, One has been boarded up by the Council through lack of use!

One is going into the ‘phone sex’ world.  A whizz bang idea, One thought and has been practising like a good ‘un on the likes of Uncle Bert and (hopefully the JTWSEG)

‘Mmmmm I’ve got clean pants on,’ was deemed not racy enough and ‘If you rub your duffle bag like that no one will believe you’re washing it,’ has been given the thumbs (and the willies) down.

Still, it does seem the obvious choice as a multi-tasking career…

One can drink a glass of wine, watch Corrie and encourage some poor sap to slap the sausage all at the same time – SURELY

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