“Maroon it’s obvious to everyone what you’re doing.”
“What?”
“You’ve fallen into the media trap.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“This relentless quest for ratings has to stop. You’ve become a….”
“Don’t say it…”
“It’s all vanity, you’re a…”
“Please don’t…”
“A GOBSHITE.”
“I can't believe you said that. You said I made you laugh.”
“I said your POETRY made me laugh.”
“That’s quite unfair.”
“Twenty was right, you’re whoring. First it was the map…”
“The map’s cool! You said so…”
“Now its that wankey Scotch ranking thing that Barney turned you on to.”
“I’m up to eightieth!”
“Yeah, of a hundred. Look, you used to say you didn’t give a flying fuck…”
“I said / you said, - what does it matter now? I’m on to something here.”
“Wise up Maroon, I’m warning you!”
“Oh come on, what about a joke from Jokemail? Barney says he loves him.”
“Barney’s fucked with drink, that much is obvious”
“OK, here it is anyway, How did Pinocchio find out he was made of wood? His hand caught fire…”
See? A smile, that wasn’t hard was it?”
“Listen Maroon, I’m back fairly early tonight, and I’m not playing second fiddle to that fucking laptop. I’m sick of half conversations, it’s like Beardy says, it’s time to take out your dick and start fucking.”
Phew readers, what a to-do! The ladies! They never let us have our fun.
Now, here’s a picture of a very attractive visitor to the garden feeder.
Our old friend the Goldfinch. Pairs or singly this time of year.
No comments:
Post a Comment