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Tuesday, 30 September 2014

In which One refuses to be Thelma…

Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let...fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but..two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve ……  bla bla bla

me

That’s me that is, Dear Reader…

AND NO DOUBT, NOW THAT ONE IS ON SKID ROW (yet a-fecking-gain), YOU’LL START READING ABOUT IT…

Just because One is all ‘loved up’ and waxing lyrical about the A of the F, you fiendish hoards have deserted One in your droves.

See if One cares (holding breath until sick)

Any road up, One and the A of the F are of the same stock and a pay cheque away from the gutter.

‘Twould appear One is going to be victorious in this particular race and be in a shop doorway to ring in the New Year.

One favours the ‘going out in a blaze of glory’ approach to this particular dilemma.  Well, One favours that in any dilemma actually.

This is One’s plan…

1     Flog One’s homestead and get hands on cash

2     Buy a boat/van/Winnebago/tent/backpack

3     Clear off and see the world. One is reliably informed that there is one out there, despite One only viewing it over the top of an easel.

4     Have FUN

‘Where will I/we live when we get back?’ enquired the A of the F.

‘Blimey,’ said BF, ‘At least he’s  more sensible than you, but then, next door’s cat is more sensible than you!’

One opined, to the A, that since both he and One are really rather ancient we might get housed in one of those ‘over 55’s’ bungalows.

One, however favours the ‘Thelma and Louise’ approach.  Shearing off a cliff in matching mobility scooters would suit One.

But One refuses to be ‘Thelma’, it’s such a God-awful name!

 

1 comment:

Neil Stone said...

That sounds frighteningly familiar. Please resist the urge for song lyrics, I am still on medication and having sleepless nights from my encounters with the 'pub singer'