my wife,the zombie,

she just sits there,
in her dressing-gown,
glued to,
mesmerised BY ,
it seems,
the television.

it's like speaking to an armchair.

like she's brain-dead.

as with lardthing,
the light's on,
but no-one's at home.


we should ALL,
just get a family booking at eastbourne.
and travel one-way.
it really is fuckin hopeless.

i don't doubt that she,
that THEY,
hate this situation as much as i,
but it's all we have.

i don't fancy striking out,
and starting again,
nor does she.
and lardthing isn't capable.
it's all he can do to wipe his arse.
well,
i'm assuming that he is able to do that.
who knows?
and if it happens,
there'll probably be no more logging-on,
for me i think.

the
and life,
as we know it,
trundles merrily on.

ho'hum.