I stayed in the Fish Factory till late, this meant when I turned up at the pub there was already a large group sitting at the usual table. So I took a seat on the edge. No one acknowledged I had come in and sat down. Then I suppose I should of said hello, but one guy was talking. Taking up attention. I put my paper on the table and looked at the giant sized Soduku I been trying to do for the past 6 days. Then sipped my Guinness. It's what happens on a Friday if I get in the pub late.
The bloke who was doing the talking must of liked the sound of his own voice. He's got an opinion on everything. He just gasses and gasses. It's like as long as he is chatting away and people are listening nothing matters. He sits there pouring out his verbal diarrhea in a mildly intoxicated fashion. The drink must of been getting to him. But what a load of bollocks. Utter and complete tripe. I was quite. There are important things to say but he likes the sound of his own voice. I wouldn't mind betting he has it on tape. Gets home and when the wifey isn't listening to him he turns his tape on and discusses crap with himself. The man who talks bollocks has walked into the room, all bow, put up your glasses and listen to this complete tosser. For although the alcohol will diminish the words he says, he'll still be a tosser in the morning.
I drank my pint and left, saying little. Feeling I could be a little bitter. But Guinness isn't is for chilling. I'll wake up in the morning and with all my faculties about me will hopefully not resemble a tosser. Hopefully, well it depends how many I drink the night before.
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