Sorry to borrow a headline from the Sun. Couldn't think of anything else.
At least it wasn't the one about eating the hamster.
Still suffering and really sick of this woman pissing us about. Put the house back on the market. Cracked up about it on thursday and Husband said Enough Already!. And if we lose the house we want, then sod it, I'm miserable of being miserable - if you see what I mean. And I hear sheltered accommodation is very nice these days.
Have mixed feelings about Michael Jackson's demise. That bugger stood us up in 1992. All day long we sat in that Wembly bloody stadium and then this fat git who called himself a manager announced at 7.30, the time he was due to come on, that Michael had flu and wouldn't be appearing.
We're going to Have the Git - I think were the words me and my sunburnt mate used at the time. Had to trudge back to that shithole 3 weeks later to see him.
But I didn't know it would be THIS sort of revenge! Oh Lordy!
I really liked him at the time of Billy Jean and Thriller. He really had it on board then. None of this going white shit and bubbles the chimp. He was healthy looking, black and slim and talented. That must have been his peak now I think about it.
Went to Richmond park to do some more suffering. Photographed this old thing and told him all about the house move problems. His eyes look a little glazed as you can see.
Do they have problems with nests and nest-viewers and that? guess I'll never know.