All I wanted for xmas – the only thing I wished for – was a dead neighbour. It doesn’t even need delivering, so the lack of chimney’s no excuse. I mean, I wasn’t even fussy about how it happened. Fall out of a building, gas leak, pummelling by low-flying reindeer hooves. Anything.
But, no. The rancid little bastard is still alive, well, and thumping his shitty ******* “music” through my wall. Why do I bother? Every year with the notes and the mince pie and the glass of milk. I even scaled down from asking for the usual world domination to something simpler.
Useless, fat, “ho-ho-ho”-ing tosser. And his ******* elves.
Welly – if I say “no” on here to avoid any legal repurcussions you know what my *actual* answer is, yes? 😉
A nice person bought me an ax for Christmas… Want me to come and sort him out?
What a ****, eh? Mind you, Ipods are **** anyway, so maybe you won out with that one.
Dude, you should start a blog and only allow yourself to write it between midnight and 5am.
If it makes you feel any better the bastard didn’t bring me an Ipod OR a digital camera.
Reading between the grumbles I suspect Uncle Iain isn’t sleeping… and neither have I been recently (for various reasons, none good). I’m thinking of forming the Bradford Insomniac and Sleeplessness Club for Users of Information Technology.
Or BISCUIT for short.
Battle cries would include “Biscuits!” and “May the Ovaltine be with you!”, and there’d be break-time non-IT games like “Pass the Night Nurse” and “Can’t Sleep, Won’t Sleep”.
…What’s disturbing is that at this time of night (00:37), this is all starting to sound far too plausible.