How's Work? Answer Me!

Oh fair & fleshy Pussycat Dolls, why in Sir Donald Sinden's name did you not see fit to include me in your forever gyrating number? I mercilessly hunted down my inner doll and impaled it on a special matryoshka harpoon & everything. Apparently, there is a Pussycat Doll squatting inside every woman's nasal cavities. There’s so many different types of ‘Pussycat Dolls’ in the world, and that’s what is so inspiring to women, so they say. The message is just finding your can of hairspray and suffocating your bastard inner doll with it. Why, Donald, Why?

This weekend, as I plucked the crispy hairs from the ageing skin of my roasted pig, I heard the dreaded double clap, summoning me to take my place under the smug pole of his Lordship's sedan furniture. The weak & woolly amongst our number mewed like broken sheep about the cold, even though it was a gloriously snoodling, winter evening. But all was not lost, the pub had provided us with a spread of crispy hog, pressed rat, warthog, the may bee & funky monkeys with which to celebrate the double whammy of inconsiderate birthday expense. Scrubs-aping duo, BoBoBoBoBoBoBoBoBoBoBoBo & his Brown Bo just had to decide to be born on very similar dates. Though obviously separated by many decades they both enjoy an uncanny lackadaisical attitude to the charms of professional pressie ripping. Their birthdays do not deserve to be in such close proximity to the evillest genius of them all, Dame Kylie. Brrrrrrrrrr.


Currently listening: 23 by Blonde Redhead