the trouble with summer,and living on a sink-estate.

the notion that i might just wake up to silence one afternoon,
is a totally forlorn hope.
it just isn't gonna happen.
we have a local disadvantaged person who ambles around the estate,
armed with his strimmer.
sometimes a spade,
doing jobs for the slightly less disadvantaged.
and for this there is no charge.
but it might be for the best if we don't mention it to anybody.
yeah right.
my dog has PISSED more brain-cells than he posesses.
there it goes again,
he's cutting a grassed area the size of a small principality,
with a fuckin strimmer.
the strimmer fetish must be one helluva gig.
urges so strong,
all-consuming.
it's a maaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnn-thing.
we're in yorkie,
and golden virginia territory here.
how big is YOUR strimmer?
how much did YOUR'S cost?
jesus fuckin christ.
please god,
let him sever a limb or something.

it probably doesn't help my situation that,
i woke with a night-nurse hangover,
legs aching like hell,
tinnitus full on,
then proceeding to read a couple of chapters from jack dee,
with a cup of tea.

ARGHHHH!
jesus!
give it a fuckin rest eh?
brainless cnut.

silence!
"awwww my string snapped".

he's off again.

silence.
at last.

i know that it drives some people crazy.
my wife NEEDS a background sound.
she'll complain about the rubbish on telly,
but it MUST be on.

women.

i don't suppose that i'd like living in complete silence 24/7.
but it's just so nice sometimes.

hello nobster.

how's the car?

The car?

i bet they took one look at you and thought he can afford it.

One look at the car ( a beat up Renault Kangoo) told them the opposite.