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Hunt the Kipper

Poland can bloody well wait! As and when I take delivery of my Tiger tanks (apparently they went round in gangs of four) the first stop is Tescos. I can only assume that the word ‘Tesco’ is Swahili for ‘Sadistic Bastards’. I mean to say; after a good few months having to shop in shops again myself, even I can work out where things are; like the booze, the fish, the frozen stuff, the booze; you know; the important gear. So. Offsky to get the grub for Din Dins; now shifted to Sunday to accommodate the bizarre social lives of the guests, aka ‘The Coven’.

Naturally I had to get some greenery and dressing to set off the langoustine starters. Except they’ve only gone and moved it! Like it has taken me fourteen thousand years to battle my way through the acres of idiots all farting about with their trollies; as well as being off them! To find myself this time knee deep in dog food? Hello? Earth calling anyone? Just leave the bloody stuff where it was the last time! What? Alien abduction of cornflakes? I don’t ******* think so. (Put a sock in it; you pathetic twathead! EdZilla) [God, he does go on, doesn’t he? Eermintrude] Beat it, Sisters.

Interior design

Tescos it is then. A Tiger tank would set their shelving off something lovely; especially if I parked it up the arse of the maniac who thought to move the shelves; or at least the content thereof. Care in the Community does have its limits. Ten-fifteen in the morning and Bigot Man hates everyone already. Is this a record? (No. EdZ) Oh; and toilet paper. And paper napkins. And cheese. And biscuits. And some delicious sweet thing. And perhaps some pudding wine for EdZilla? It just might sweeten her up a bit; nah. That would take surgery. (Watch it, buster. EdZ) Moment of crowning bastard-dom. get back to car; all bags in boot; start engine; then remember I’ve forgotten the bloody langoustine. See some child in neighbouring car pulling at mummy to look at man in car banging head on steering wheel.


Back home, eventually. At least the turkey continues to defrost happily on the draining board. Except it smells a bit off. No. Not the big budgy. It was the nature of the niff that did it. That bloody washing I’d done! I was so pleased at getting the washing-machine to work properly that I forgot about taking the clothes out to hang them up. Bugger! They were all mouldy! I’d have been better using a less sticky pair from the bedroom floor. Blast! I had to rewash them all – and this time remember to hang them up afterwards. To be fair, I noticed that the first wash had failed to remove some of the snot from the hankies, and some of the stickiness from the y-fronts; so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

I quite like beigy-green y-fronts anyway.

John J McCabe. Copyright