Bit of a cranky day today. My latest offering, poetry wise, is called: Fuck You, Printer!
Why is that thing not printing my stuff?! Husband says it's me fonts, and I say it's just a
crap printer! So you can see which way the tide was going!
I'll give it bloody fonts! I'll do what font I want and when I want!
I gave it a slap, I don't know why. People used to thump televisions, didn't they?
Buggering thing, how dare it not print out my life's works and masterpieces.
Son behind me was taking all the Casesar salad and putting it in a bowl. He loves
that stuff, whereas I can't see anything in it. Just a load of lettuce and shredded
cheese and some creamy dressing. Decided I hate it, and my next poem is called
Fuck You, Caesar salad! This will go down a storm, I'm sure. Especially at Caesar's
And after that, I'm doing Thanks For Taking All The Biscuits, C****!
Then I had better stop.
Anyway, posted another poem, quite different from the delicate theme going on here.
It's called Evelyn's Mum, about when I used to go round me mates for tea, and her terrifying
I hope you like it. Away for the weekend tomorrow, but I 'll post on next week.