Shall we?
Painful muscle pull, lower back, left side.
Bruising various odd places. Very odd places.
General feeling of having gone 3 rounds with Turkish boxer.
Alarming record of various latenight calls on cell phone
Still fully dressed.
Yes.
Yes I think I had a good night last night.
I must pad the furniture edges like one sees in the houses of the blind
Yeah, blind drunk you aunt.
Ok that’s enough.
Today at the eleventh hour, as the bell tolls, I am cleaning up my act, getting my shit together, taking stock, striding out into the new day. I shall bathe, ablute and dress with care. Full cuff link presentation, pomade on hair, polished boots. I am not a mollusc, I am a free man! Christ give me a drink someone, perllease!
Has the British government fallen yet? I hope not. Good old Mandy. Cometh the hour cometh the man.
14 comments:
Arnica is the right stuff for bruises. I'm treating MTL just now.
I was wrong about the red- haired floozie - I thought she would cling to the wreckage to the end.
WHAT a comfort that Mandy is waiting in the wings.
Maroon, you aunt! What were you doing? Did the neighbours have you in? I hope you are not making your own poitin (sp?). I had a loathsome old Irish gardener once who drank what he called porter. Actually, he called it paurthherr. Here in the glorious Thames Valley I find myself in the midst of a social whirl. Any minute now I leave for Epsom; yes, the season has started!
Pat I wouldn't say but you are right! What are you treating him with? I believe witchazel is the thing for bruises. Poor Mr Brown might not agree. Give him a strong toddy, a smile and a slobbery big Frenchie. Allways works, trust me, I am a doctor. I went to Oxford and Cambridge and Henley on Thames.
Good old Derby Day Clarissa. Oh how I wish I were going with you. I have a fool proof accumulator algorithm (don't tell Inky) and we would look so good with our enclosure badges dangling at the paddock. I suppose that dangerous niece of yours will be there, slipping Micky Finn sugar lumps to all the jockeys. Please I beg you, do not listen to her wild tales of romps and aging Scotch Lotharios; I have no idea where she gets it from
might be time to dry out, sugar, think of it as a seasonal cleansing. a sort of purification and healing for your body and soul. (yes, i'm on the wagon for a week or so, don't ask why) be well and careful, hunniebunnie! ;~D xoxoxo
Savannah dahling, I hear what you say, truly I do, but the booze takes such an edge off.
It's invaluable in my estimation, and, and, while everything you say is correct (I have rigour in abundance), drink makes life so much more interesting.
A cleansing purging of body and soul you suggest.
Well sweetheart, they haven't yet made the household cleaner capable of tackling that one, my poppet.
Draino perhaps?
I tell you, if I had one ounce of gumption left in me, I'd drink a half gallon US of the bloody stuff and welcome.
Kind regards,
AHK Maroon.
xoxxxoxooxx :)
such self loathing. why do you torture yourself?
Look here Maroon, it's not gambling when I do it. And if Jayne-Marie is in the paddock you won't confuse her with the geegees; my relatives are only spiritually horse-faced.
Ah Doc, you are such a bad influence and I am trying so hard to be good. Still, at least you are not a mollusc.
In your deepest, darkest depths of despair console yourself with the key empirical saving grace: You are not Hazel Blears.
Or Harriet Harman.
There now, a tonic for the spirit.
First Ali, now his brother Omar has copped it.
http://www.thenational.ae/article/20090607/OPINION/706069931/1080
What's going on, Maroon? Has Paul Daniels revived David Nixon as a sort of zombie to bump off all the good ones?
Sarah, torture myself? Nay lass nay. I think I am wonderful. I drink to dull my brilliance that others night not be blinded by it and hate me.
Inkspot of course when you do it it ain't gamblin', it's the reasoned probability of a particular outcome taking into account a myriad variables. That and a nod from the stable boys. This Jayne-Marie, Clarissa's niece, is a sparkling eyed, black haired beauty with a beautiful smile. You can't miss her. If she offers you a chocolate from an open box you should refuse (firmly) and phone the police.
Eryl, you are too kind, I think. Come with old Maroon and kick over the traces. Have a noggin and a ciggy and another noggin. I'll make sure no harm comes to you. Well, none you will admit to.
Kevin, thank the lord Harry for that indeed. Imagine being poor Blearsy whith her paralysed grin like the Joker. God help the little mite. A tonic indeed. I feel better already.
Boyo, Daniels is a necromancer, of that there can be no doubt, (the lovely Debbie Magee, say no more squire) but David Nixon? I thought he was a zombie, he certainly looked like one. He used to shake suspiciously on close ups of his sleight of hand business. Very suspicious. Poor Omar. Sic transit...
I don't like the look of your ClustrMap, Maroon. Europe has taken on the image of WC Fields' nose. Covered in gin blossoms.
So was this the reason you called me to offer me India in return for one of Rogan's chocolate cakes? I was busy making plans on how to divide it between the familyand now I discover you were blind drunk. Bet you don't even remember the call!
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