Today One has mostly been ironing sheets.
IRONING FECKING SHEETS – if you ever did!
That is the sad and sorry depths One has sunk to.
Still, One’s doings have dropped off the front page of life since the powdery doings of Nige and the death of NM.
I bet poor old Nige heaved that enormous bosom in relief that a bigger story than her hit the headlines.
Like when Kennedy died, CS Lewis shuffled on the same day and some other known bod too. There you are! Proof positive! One can’t even remember the other deceased bod as everyone was reporting Kennedy.
The same with Princess D. When she bought it, Mother Theresa croaked on the same day so nobody noticed her shuffling off to inherit the earth.
(One has never quite been able to grasp the divinity of poverty)
Thus it will be with poor old Nige. Off the front page for the foreseeable.
Sharp intake of breath – though preferably not through the nose Nige, we all know that’s not self-raising down yer décolletage.
One has succumbed to the depths of gloom yet again, what with there being nobody in the Underground Lair to moan to/about. One is starkly aware of how lonely little old biddies, kept alive and alone, by the advance in medicine, only to shiver in front of the one bar fire, and when it’s really cold – turn it on!
But wait! One is one of those medicated biddies. Even the JTWSEG has sheared following the refusal of One to drive to Bristol on the promise of a cream slice!
One is putting the tree up tomorrow.
Deck the lair with cans of cider,
fa la la la la fecking la