Back at the Ranch, all was going smoothly, until a very large wasp came out of nowhere. It buzzed around in a menacing fashion while everyone at the Fish Factory did their best to swot it. The wasp had a name, it was called 'work.' A shiver ran down my back, the shiver was doing its best to avoid the wasp as well and was looking for somewhere warm to settle. Such is life when returning back to the hum drum of it all.
I got a train to work only to find my fair had increased by 10 per cent. Wonderful, VAT rise and a rise in fair, well out of order I thought. How can people afford to do their normal everyday stuff with increases left right and centre. The only way I'd got a raise in the last few months was by getting an advancement.. It is so easy to moan and groan about such things. Mark my words 2011 will be the year of the revolution. I can see crowds now in the streets, marching on Parliament. They would if they could get near it. Sparkling will be part of it as well if she has a say so. I could see her telling me to book her a ticket and hotel room just so she can join the revolt. Out will come the Che Guevara hat and a home made placard. It will say "Up the Revolution - down with fat cats, bureaucrats, bankers and anyone in the top tax bracket." If not the top tax bracket anyone who classes themselves as posh and pretentious. Mind posh and pretentious is a term which is usually bestowed on others and you can't class yourself as posh and pretentious. Which should not be confused with eccentric, because eccentric could possibly wondering into the arena of pretentious. Especially when wearing a bow tie or a cravat. Neither of which I can personally say I have tried it out. But were I to ever wonder anywhere near posh and pretentious I know Sparkling Eyes would batter it out of me after being wrestled into submission and I'd then massaged her feet. On account of all the walking on Parliament, heaven help me if she wants to wear Dr Martins.
What a lot of trollop I'm talking. Yep. I'll admit it. Only had two page views of my blogs today so now I talk bollocks. In fact the other day I got accused of talking a load of bollocks. Which by definition means more than just bollocks. I was in the pub at the time and had got to the point of having a problem with my legs. They had lost their co-ordination completely, either this or some kind of inner-ear infection had suddenly struck me. I know, I'd bashed into three bar stalls and two walls on the way to the toilet. But the thing is when you get inebriated it don't make your lips or mouth lose co-ordination. Your gob just keeps going, it's what comes out of it, yep auditory bollocks. Someone kick me up the arse.
Better get back to the YouTube videos for making Won Ton, at least they're constructive.
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