Tuesday, October 11, 2005

The postman sometimes rings once

The postman usually turns up around these parts at a suitably indolent quarter past eleven in the morning.

This morning, though, he had something that wouldn't fit through the door, so he turned up an hour and a half early, hence disturbing my sleep. I was having a good dream too - for some reason they were filming Top Gear in my garden and I was having a friendly chat with Jeremy Clarkson in my shed*, lulling him into a false sense of security while I decided what to use as a weapon.

Worse still, back in real life I was in such a hurry to get the door (in case the fucker just puts a delivery slip through the door and wanders off) I managed to pull my trousers on the wrong way around. The long-haired prole is probably still laughing about it now.

Postman? Postcunt, more like.


*Weird, because I don't have a shed. The mind works in mysterious ways.

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