Woo hoo – the lunatics have taken over the asylum. Having lead a very sheltered childhood and an even more sheltered adult hood I am rather astonished to see how this Macmillan site has lead me astray. Not only are we talking cancer here – yes I have said it, the dreaded C word but now I am being exposed to sado-masochism, man eating budgies, rubber fetish water sports fanatics, self obsessed demon decorators and Jeremy Kyle aficionados. Yes I am talking about the Kezzerbabe – the Steve Irwin of the budgie hunting world.
How can I, a shy, retiring, quiet (I have it in writing) normal sort of guy who is need of a little gentle support after losing one of the most important parts of his body, something that I have enjoyed from birth, finds himself exposed to all manner of perversions like what I have on this site?
Life has denied me the opportunity to read the paper in a serene haven with my cheeks delicately poised over a white trumpet of best British porcelain. Oh cruel world! How can you read the bloody paper when your bag has burst all over your Dangermouse slippers, your underclarts is dripping and you can’t get clean coz Tom-ass just doesn’t know how to behave? Or when to stop. Oh woe is me!
I used to think booze was the only answer but what was the question? Now I know what I’ll do. I will write a book and let the whole world know what kind of people you are.
Right I’m off to decorate a room or three, chase some sparrows round the garden, create a sunami in my bath, borrow a ride on lawnmower, go down the club and slap my bingo players around a bit, get to bed two hours before I got up, drink a tanker load of tea and still have time to watch Mastermind, Masterchef and anything else beginning with “master”. (Careful now with what you add to “master” –it’s all in your Jeremy Kyle poisoned mind!) and JK himself.
Irene is in Ingoldmels until Saturday. I think I’ll knock out a wall or three or paint a Muriel in the living room before breakfast.
I’ve decided. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. There, I’ve thrown off the shackles of my repressed past. Thankyou thankyou thankyou. Goodbye cruel world. Welcome to the rubber room with a back to front overcoat. Macland. You know it makes sense. Or does it?
Hah Hah Hah, Hee Hee Hee,
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