While trimming this shit, which I think is Feverfew; I noticed one of those False Widow spiders disappearing up the sleeve of my tee shirt.Bitey fuckers.
Well, in keeping with my new ‘Hamas Hair’, I started beating my upper body like an Arab at a funeral.
The tee shirt came off and I think I stamped on it a couple of times.
Mrs Next Door With The Kids was bringing her washing in and asked,
“You ok?”
“Yeah, just a full on Spider Spaz.”
She shuddered.
Then a dangly bit on her washing line touched her face and she flipped.
The armful of washing went up like a nuclear mushroom cloud and she was in her house, door shut, before it hit the ground.
Most impressive.
The advertising for Father’s Day is coming at us hard and fast.
Mainly music, or so it seems to me.
George Harrison? If I bought the Old Man that he’d go fucking mental.
“Dad Rocks!” with Kiss, Robert Palmer and Lynard Skinnerd would get me killed.
I got him books.
A trilogy about Attila the Hun by William Napier.
I thought they were a really great read, he’ll fecking love them!
2 comments:
Deffo Feverfew.
I presume you 'neutralised' the spider.
My dad didn't approve of Father's Day. He said it was made-up, just because the church had a Mother's Day and he was right. We still bought him stuff though:)
The spider?
Who knows?
The tee shirt is still out there!
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