When you're a kid, your shadow is your chum, it grows, it shrinks, you jump about it. My shadow as an adult lives a damn sight closer.
It's about two and a half feet tall an makes an odd hissing noise. It has never left my side for the past six weeks. It reassures me with it's constant presence, yet I always resent it being there.
It's my oxygen cylinder, and it's changed my life. I resent it, because it means pain is near, but I adore it, because it makes the pain bugger off, like nothing ever has done before.
I am not a huge admirer of the odious little turds that choose to make politics their chosen way of life, and over the past few days, one in particular has stuck his head above the paprapet and demanded that we yell 'cunt' in order for him to duck down.
Chris cuntarsing, I've never broken the speed limit, nor shagged a lesbian Huhne.
On Sunday, anyone who didn't shop around for an energy deal was a lazy twat, and it was fucking spiffing that these companies were making oodles of cash because it was ace and everything. Try telling that to a pensioner who neither has access to the internet, nor wouldn't know what a fixed rate online deal was if it slapped them on the arse with a wet haddock.
By today, when oddly enough, he had to stand up and give a speech to all of his Libdem closet Tory mates, he had slightly changed his choon. He, big bad Chris, was going to get proper, proper roughty toughty with those nasty boys from the energy companies, and give then what for. Oh yes he was, and everything.
What a total, unmitigated cunt the man is. I'd wish shame on him, but he probably couldn't even spell it.
6 comments:
Despite my politics occupying elements from the fanatically left-wing and the fascist right-wing (and a lot of the middle ground twain the two), I feel that the vast majority of British politicians are utter cunts, and the UK would be massively improved if they had a one-way ticket on the next satellite launch. Few have my attention and even fewer command any shred of my respect. Huhne and his gang of media-seeking zombies would be on the first flight out of here. If I had my way.
Sorry to hear you're still carting around a bucket of pain. What's the prognosis?
Same old really Bren, although this episode is dragging on somewhat. Lots of meds to keep me functioning, and 02 for pain relief.
I don't think a thirteen hour trip to Cambridge and Boston helped much yesterday.
Bren, I've just seen your latest post.
I understand why you may have comments off.
Sending you all the very very best (both of you) and hope that everything is okay.
Thanks. Have emailed you. Hopefully emailed you.
Blimey matey, I didn't know you were a sicknote. It sounds pretty bad if you are carting around oxygen. Hope you can dispense with it soon ;-(
Anyway, reading between the lines, I take it you aren't a fan of Chris Huhne? Totally with you, in fact the lot of them in government at the moment are twats full of hot air.
Bren, have replied.
Anne, bloody discqus won't let me in.
I am proper ill, but the drugs seem to be working. I'm not popping my clogs just yet.
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