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Thursday, 19 February 2015

In which normal service is resumed...

'Who is your next of kin?' Enquired the stchoopid bint on reception.
' My son,' replied One.
'Is that him?' Continued the sort, pointing at the A of the F.
WHAT THE FECK
He's fecking sixty sodding two, you short sighted, idiotic dollop.
I mean, Dear Reader, I know One didn't have One's face on, but fer fecks sake One'll never hear the last of this. The look on his face said it all and he keeps on calling me 'Mother.'
Consequently, One was in such a paddy by the time One got ackled up in the gown, which incidentally would have fitted Bessie Braddock, One could have bitten a nail in half.
Any road up, sans tumour, One called Aged P...
'I've had it done.'
'Has Martin got grey hair?'
'I'm home now and just a bit woozy'.
'Eileen bought me a microwave pancake from Morrison's and Jackie never hoovers under the furniture.'

Situation normal - pass the fags (no Pinot til tomorrow.)

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