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Tuesday, 21 June 2016

In which One can't unsee the naked man...

I tell you, Dear Reader, if I wasn't so fecking knackered I'd hunt that sodding Bill Gates down and give him a Chinese burn on the willy...

All fecking day long One has been chasing a naked man up and down the stairs (don't ask!) and One gets home, turns on the pooter and attempts to purchase, or otherwise acquire, a lottery ticket in order that there is a vague hope of ever being able to pay off me gargantuan debts, retire to a home for the bewildered and eat something other than Asda Smart Price meatballs, and ...
I cant get into me lottery account because that be-spectacled tit has seen fit to update me pooter to Win-fecking-dows fecking 10 THAT I DIDNT EVEN BLEEDING WELL ASK FOR

Locked out of every sodding thing, even, I might add, the precious blog, that it took me forever to get back into.

Any road up, having been so bleedin' busy chasing, or being chased by, persons who require more looking after than One does, One simply wants One's devices to work first time without any issues.
Why, only the other sodding day One received a message to inform One that One is yet again locked out of One's pooters as 'someone has been accessing your information.'  Yes IT WAS ME you blithering eejit!

Anway, what with working all the effing time, One doesn't even have time to see dear little BF.  I bet without my direct shopping input she's sauntering towards beige clothing items in Matalan and not no-no-ing her upper lip.  Rumour has it she's even stopped smoking!  Ghastly behaviour, and all because One is Shit-Faced up to the eyebrows.

Not that One has a full set of eyebrows anymore...

'ere' said a fellow hirsute workmate suffering from super-floo-us, 'ave yer seen this?' brandishing a pink device (why is it that marketing types think that razors are an acceptable handbag item if they're pink?)
Any road up, it was a neat little thing that looked fairly capable of removing me soft white downy grow yer own balaclava, so One shot off to Argos to acquire same.

Foolishly attempting a smooth surface without reading the instructions One began ploughing through the fur and hoiking it off like tumbleweed when One got blasé and attempted an eyebrow shape. 
Only got one now.  And, me face looks like a peeled King Edward.

1 comment:

Michael said...

I swear, it's a good thing I'm reading this and not trying to sleep, because I'm bouncing on my stomach with laughter rather than boiling with rage that some asshole has decided to set off his loud-ass fireworks NOW, at almost ONE in the fucking morning, jolting everyone in a mile radius with PTSD-inducing bangs.

So thanks for that (and let's all hope the perpetrator gets arrested).