No, it's not Swine Flu. Well, it might be; but then again it may just be an inevitable consequence of over exuberance.
The hoards have descended to shower me with ill deserved cash and I am as delighted as a sand boy who has just constructed a sand castle and bombarded all foreign speakers with beer cans, discarded toiletries, and the pile of the Manchester Guardian that a Southern English Type decided to cram into one of my bin liners.
They're shifty, these tourists. They like to avoid you unless they've got something really serious to complain about: like condensation drips under the toilet cistern, midges getting in their hairnets, or the lack of a decent pint from Burton on Trent (which is 400,000 miles away).
I am a living saint. I am the living personification of equanimity. I will be living somewhere else soon.
I fear that toilet seat complications will follow me there. There will be no escape from the wobbling toilet lid, microwave complications, and too many wifi signals or none at all.
I think I'll retire to a cave and take up macrame.
I would do, if I didn't love what I do. I make a living watching people enjoying themselves.
About Twitter
2 days ago
6 comments:
I am a living saint. I am the living personification of equanimity.
Should I post this as your “Men of Infomaniac” bio blurb?
Sorry to hear about your 'toilet seat complications' Garfer.
You could try some kaolin and morphine.
Or a butt plug.
I adore you but I wonder are you ever not under the weather? Maybe you should stop being so saintly and be a cheerful self centered bitch - it's never done me any harm!
MJ
I am an international man of mystery.
Kaz
Isn't that illegal? I'll stick to
my Benylin thanks.
Piggy and Tazzy
Get tae fuck ya shortarse Jock poofer.
EmmaK
I get a halo when I hear the word kerching.
You will acquire followers and be regarded as the living form of the divine. I will worship at your feet and gaze at your adoringly. And you can't get a decent pint from Burton on Trent anymore.
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