I have to ask. Because as I get older, and Christmases become more grown up and sensible, I am finding myself the victim of ever increasing levels of human interaction viagra. In case you were wondering, that's a bad thing. So for next Christmas, I am throwing open an offer for any one of you cunts to adopt me viagra. You don't have to be nice to me, or have me for long...just get me away from the fuckers I have to deal with for 5 days. I'll tip you grandly.
Why are people such utter cunts buy cialis? I really do find it so depressing. To the point where I want to exile myself even more than I have done cialis. So I wind up living next to a broken chimney, next to a scattering of old rocks on the Moors buy cialis. Let's face it, it can't get any colder up there than it is in my fucking useless house at the moment.
I've decided that any house built in the 19th century, but modernised in the 21st century, retains temperature in the same way that Enron retains integrity and trust amongst its client base.
This Christmas saw me piss my time and energies away on a bunch of arseholes I don't like. You may have heard of this special 'catch-all' term before; let me enlighten you in case you have forgotten or are blessed with good fortune:
That's right. This Christmas featured Mr and Mrs D. pouring over stoves and all the rest of it, so that ingrate, cynical and boring relatives could sit around, make no effort, and delight me with comments like 'so, John, don't you feel a bit awkward about the fact that when you move, you won't be able to buy a house as big as this?'
Yeah, thanks for that, that's lovely that is. I mean, I'm bursting with possible responses here. None of which answer a question that is, frankly, unanswerable, but still, it'd get me in the festive spirit. You fucker.
At that precise moment, Obo the Clown became a great source of joy and inspiration to me, as I thought of all the things I could do to these rude, imposing and depressing fuckers, purely on the basis that they were doing it all in my home.
My property, my rules (is the Obo Anarcho-Capitalist mantra). Fuck, I've never come so close to agreeing with a political opponent in my life. You may as well have been wearing Stalin pink frilly underpants and dancing around my dreams singing 'I love Greek Schlong, ding dong....ding dong'
So, apart from being reminded about how poor and pathetic I am by tactless, rich, materialistic relatives and in-law type people, it's been marvelous. I've spent a fortune. Done virtually nothing I wanted to do, or that I might enjoy doing, and I've run myself so ragged, I can barely move. Oh, and it's minus degrees outside, and I have over a month till payday.
On the plus side, and there's always a plus, the D met the mighty Boaty over the Period of Wrath (as I shall call Xmas from now on). Here we talked about cunts, more cunts, and some more cunts besides. Some of them are probably you. But don't worry, we're forgiving sorts and will generally bestow you with much love so long as you remark on our brilliance and continue to support Tottenham Hotspurs.
We'll be moving into 2010 on a positive note. Partly because next Christmas is so mercifully far away, partly because our self-improvement drive will take us to new heights.
I know that many of our readers dislike us or are alienated by our attitude. I've thought about this, and have come to a simple conclusive statement on the matter. Something that makes me feel just, I don't know, right about the whole situation.
See you in 2010, fellow fucktarians.