I nearly died!

I nearly died! and there are a lot of people who probably think that it's a pity I didn't but that is just sour grapes, bollocks to them.
What occurred was as follows:
I went to South Shield with our Wendy and Jackie with Wendy whingeing all the way because I was going over speed bumps too fast and hurting her back. Left to me I would break her back but it's against the law so she will never know how lucky she is.
We get to Shield and park in B&M's carpark at great expense and wander around the market looking for something for nothing. I got a Royal Horticultural Society china bowl for 20p, bargain!
Then Wendy, Miss Southwick 1954 wanted to go into a charity shop. She probably fancied a bit of shoplifting.
"Sod Off," I tell them. "I'm going for something to eat."
There is a nice little place called "The Smithy" so we went there. Nothing fancy, pie peas and chips.
So, we are munching away and I get a pea stuck in my throat, couldn't breathe, choking.
They just sit there watching my face turn pretty shades of purple and eating their did-dins.
I finally get it to eject, this unwanted pea and sit there gasping for breath.
"Why didn't you help? I nearly died!"

I hate snow.

I hate snow.
Well, not hate, that is a very strong and emotive word so I will change it to satisfy the proprieties of the decent folk on this planet of ours; I fucking hate snow.
Got woken up this morning at about half-past four, and for the non-country livers, that's before the sparrows get out of bed. So, awake at half four and of course Madame fucking Tussaud lying next to me pretended to wake up too. If the truth is told she woke me in the first place!
"Do you want a cuppa? love. I'm going to have one," says she getting up and looking very sexy in her onesie. Yeah, sexy to a fucking blind Eskimo. I'm not allowed to say Eskimo anymore, am I? Fuck it, I can't spell innuit.
So off she goes downstairs and I look out of the window. The park over the road is all white, so is the street outside and my car.
"Fucking snow," says I to me. "Best place for it is on poxy Christmas cards," and got back into bed.
I hate snow.

Tea Leaf

Tea Leaf! There is no other name to use for him.
I don't know how long I have had him but it has got to be three years and since the day I got him he has been a tea leaf. You can't leave nothing within his reach because as soon as you take your eyes off him, he steals it and eats it.
Let me see, what has he pinched?
Packs of sausages, bacon, biscuits and once a whole pack of steak that I paid a tenner for. There was enough meat there to feed a family of ten, but just enough for him.
The best part is he has got the gall to sit in front of you, licking his lips and looking pleased with himself! The bastard.
I had a chat with him about his antisocial behaviour, I might as well have saved my breath.
Just think how much money I could have saved if I hadn't bought the mutt in the first place, he is nothing but a Tea Leaf!

There might be something wrong with me.

There might be something wrong with me.
I suppose I better explain that and I am sure a lot of people will agree with me with no explanation whatsoever but cobblers to them anyway.
Now, every morning when I wake up I always have a song playing on the jukebox in my head.
Sometimes it can be a song learned at my grandmother's knee or some other low joint, or something modern, but usually, it's a bit strange and often goes on for a couple of hours. I just sing along in my head.
This morning it was "Let's All Gather By The River," and they don't come much stranger than that. But that's not all, I as often as not make up my own words just in my head for my own entertainment.
This morning it was;
"Let's all gather by the river,
That's what the doctor said.
Let's all gather by the river,
Perhaps the little fat twat is dead."
See!
No sense at all!
There might be something wrong with me.

I am going nowhere today

I am going nowhere today, not moving an inch. In fact, I am not even getting dressed today.
I went to bed at a perfectly respectable time last night, about a quarter past ten, that's practically when saints go to bed. I have written to the Vatican, I am just waiting for a reply.
So, bed nice and early and asleep in minutes, the conscience of a baby.
Was I allowed to sleep? Was I bollocks.
At eleven minutes past midnight I was woken up but of course, she denies it.
"Want a cuppa? love," says she.
"I might as well now you have woke me up!" says me graciously.
"I didn't wake you up," she lies.
Took me a while to get back to a sort of half sleep and awake again a three zero five, this time because the little dog had decided to get in bed beside me and she squirms about until comfy!
I just sort of dozed after that and at eleven minutes past five the big dog decided to nut me because he wanted to go outside and of course he only ever wakes me up.
I thought to myself, "Fuck it," and got up to make myself a cuppa.
Went down, made a cuppa and fell asleep on the settee but the big dog smashed open the door at seven because why should he stay in the kitchen and lie on the floor when there is a nice settee to lie on?
So, here I am, feeling like yesterday's stale curry and I am going nowhere today.

Do they think I am stupid?

Do they think I am stupid?
Obviously, they do because I have had an Email from somebody representing BTbroadband telling me, not too politely that they want £147 plus from me. I have answered to tell them to fuck off, literally.
I want this matter in a court so I can get these crooks as much adverse publicity as I can.
Now, most people would get nervous being bullied by these pricks, but not me, I just get annoyed.
I have totalled up from my bank statements exactly how much they have taken from my bank without authorisation and it is more than they say I owe them, cheeky bastards!
Do they think I am stupid?

I am back!

I am back!
It's not that I have actually been anywhere apart from off-line because those thieving bastards at BT broadband have been taking money out of my account for bugger all.
Let me explain.
I agreed to pay them twenty-five quid a month for broadband and being the trusting sort of cove that I am I didn't check my bank statements when they came in monthly until about August of last year. Then I noticed that they had taken thirty-five which even a mathematical moron like me knows is too much. So I stopped any further payments to BT and checked my back bank statements. In every case, every month they had taken more than the agreed sum. Some months it was just a couple of quid, an amount nobody is going to question on a phone bill.
BUT!
I have no phone, not a house phone anyway, just a mobile.
Some months they had taken considerably more and one month they had taken over forty-two quid!
Naturally I began arguing with them on the phone and they put a tenner back into my account and then tried to tell me that I owed them over one hundred shekkels!
I told them to fuck off and I am still telling them to fuck off.
They put my name on a black list as well I think.
So, now I am with PlusNet.
However, when you think about it, if BT have been putting a couple of quid on each phone bill for the millions of customers they have got, that has got to come to a lot of money, and they should be made to pay it back, the robbing bastards. At least when I used to rob people I had the common decency to point a gun at them first.
This could be bigger than PPI, so watch this space.
Anyway, the point is, I am back!