I know you will all be asking yourselves what I have done to deserve my glamorous life? I can sum it up in one word: Godliness. I am without question the holiest and most sinless person you are ever likely to meet. My popularity is boundless and my family rise up and call me sacred. I'm sorry, but there we are. If only you could be more like me, then you would find your lives running according to some graceful plan instead of the hideous mishmash of calamity and misunderstanding that is probably the hallmark of your existence.
I deserve everything that is coming to me, and probably more. I make no apology. I offer you my friendship and sincere condolences.
Laters.
Happy landings, Mrs P and spread a little of that kedusha while you're over there.
ReplyDeleteI'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that you didn't ask me to perform your bikini wax, Pouncer.
ReplyDeleteI for one shall probably be pining away in your absence, Mrs P, but I'll cope somehow. Have fun in the sun with Numb!
ReplyDeleteUh huh..........!
ReplyDeleteSo much for Villiers Street this Wednesday then !
Thank the Lord for my inbuilt cynicism !
Met too many like you before to succumb to knee jerk reactions, no matter how tempting such invitations may seem,especially when they involve grubby side streets,and railway arches alongside railway stations !
NSNG by definition,I feel Res Ipsa Loqitur,
Yeah, see you there!
ReplyDeleteSx
Attagal !
ReplyDeletePressies for all on your return?
ReplyDeleteHave good funnin!
Is this the hangover talking?
ReplyDeleteIf not, we all expect sticks of rock. And postcards.
Have a truly marvellous time. I can't do the sun. It makes me go pink and unbecoming. You are in this, as everything else, my role model of perfection.
ReplyDelete"Hideous mishmash of calamity and misunderstanding": no. "Endless cycle of squalor": yes.
ReplyDeleteI only hope Numb doesn't confuse you with one of his rent boys. Oh, I forgot, neither of you would care.
It is truly a gift to bask in your glory Mrs P. I shall think of your balmeless life and well deserved good fortune as I launder my Primark Pants by beating them on the rocks on the shores of the River Bourne , and beg for supper outside the Golden Arches.You are an inspiration and no mistake
ReplyDeleteHello all, whatever. It is fucking awful here. I can't imagine why I was persuaded to come. Took forever to get here and a child was vomiting all the way. It's about 90% humidity but only managed to get to about 25 degrees today, which is colder than the glorious Thames Valley. The other guests are all aunts in predictive text, and Numb is a baboon. We are in this fuckawful Sandals resort which is as vulgar as fuck, and the food is shit ("and such small portions" as my mother, the glam old harridan would say. Almost wish she was here! That's how bad it is). All drink is free tho', so live & live let live, and there is the poss. of some draw later on, so never say die. Fucking hell, I sound like Katie Boyle. No, I don't! What am I SAYING? And I can't do the italics and bold thing because I haven't brought the piece of paper with me that it's written on, and it's all in haste anyway because Numb will miss me any minute now and demand some attention of the beastliest kind. He is totally being kicked into touch the minute we get to Heathrow. Fucking fuck.
ReplyDeleteAre there no nice young Rastafarians hanging around the pool offering to service frustrated middle aged white women with money? I'm sure you could pass one off as your windsurfing instructor and have a bit of fun while Numb is panicking over his investments.
ReplyDeleteNo it's complete bollocks here. Half past three in the a'noon, which is my worst time of day, and I hold you partially responsible anyway, D. It was you, after all, who advised me to sow what was left of my steadily-diminishing oats, and I took up with Numb on the reverberating rebound, and now look at me. Far, far worse than before. Numb's dumb, to be frank. And I'm glum. Les miserables.
ReplyDeleteYou should have gone to Butlins in Mablethorpe.
ReplyDeleteYeah, yeah, yeah, fuckity, yeah!!!!
ReplyDeleteSorry that you are having a shit time, but on a much brighter note, I can once again leave comments on your blog!
It's been bloody months.
So come home and we can all celebrate stuff. :-)
I hope your torture doesn't last much longer and you are back in the safety of the Thames Valley.
ReplyDeleteYou sound grumpy x
You're on Antigua, for f**k's sake, stop pissing around in some over-hyped holiday camp and get yourself down to the Sir Vivian Richards Cricket Ground.
ReplyDeleteI think I'm just about able to parse "aunts in predictive text"
ReplyDeleteWhom numb? Worked with Katie on TV in the fifties - she was a sweetie. To me.
ReplyDelete