Old Knudsen's life isn't all just about private jets, drinking Cristal and large hairy men, oh no I'm just like yer average Joe Blogger on the street, except maybe better. I was at the shops getting my messages (grocery shopping you dumb yanks) and as of late I've had a dodgy tummy so when I got the gurgling of the squirts I clenched my cheeks and hobbled my way to the back of the shop in a dignified way but some fucker was already in there. I could hear the toilet paper rattling out of the dispenser. I eyed up the ladies' toilets but as the staff know me they watched me like a Hawk. I started to have hot flashes and cramps and that's when I started to rap the door with my walking stick, well I don't want to go into all the unseemly details but that bastard was in there for good and a bit too late for me, with my flashes pasted I walked off to do my shopping and then the bastard came out. A short man, wearing grey trousers and a grey jacket and he looked a little foreign to me, not in a dirty Slav way or a slimy eyetie way but sort of Iranian if you know what I mean. The bugger headed straight for the exits so I suspected some kind of terrorist action in the toilets or Restrooms as a Yank would call them though it can be sometimes hard work and no time to rest, then again we call them Bathrooms and they don't have baths did I go off topic again? did I have a topic? so anyway I looked towards the rent 'a' cop security guard who looked about 12 and could be knocked doon in a stiff breeze he would be no help, not even as a human shield. I headed over to the bogs with grim determination set onto my face and a stain that was get larger in the arse of me trousers, this was hero work, how does the same shit happen to the same guy every other day? maybe I should see a Doctor.
I stepped inside and yes it was a terrorist act possibly gas, the toilet bowl had been pebble dashed the paper was all used up, on the floor was some kitchen roll the workers had been using to clean with, it had been urgently pressed into action as shite wipe.
I didn't find any dirty bombs or crazed Muslims, there were some wads of tissue on the floor which I cleverly avoided, and yes the kitchen roll was quite soft and I was impressed at the suction of the toilet.
All cleaned up I went to wash my hands in the sink but it look a little grubby so I didn't bother. Its a well known fact that germs wear off the more stuff you touch so as the produce section was nearby I touched a lot of fruit and veg unnecessarily as I didn't want to go home with dirty hands.
I was standing in line at the checkout glancing at the front pages of the impulse buy magazines and I saw Cosmopolitan or Cosmo as we in the know call it, well I haven't actually ever read one but this cover peaked my interest. "Top ten things men crave in bed" wow some weemen really want to please their men, just not the ones I end up with. What would I crave in bed? well the obvious of course which is a nice cup of tea, Nambarrie being my brand and maybe some Ginger nuts to dunk, and sometimes maybe a Big Mac, to think a woman would go out at all hours to get her man a burger, they taste like shite but I usually don't care until 5 minutes after eating it. Sometimes when I wake up I fancy a nice can of beer or some Chinese barbecue ribs. The woman to fulfill my every craving may just be a keeper but as for 10 cravings, c'mon lads wise up don't be greedy.
The same magazine had on the other side of the page, "how to climax together" I may have to go back and buy that issue as who the hell climaxes together? the man cums and the woman takes care of herself later, that's in the fucking Bible and you can't argue with God, well you could but you'd be wrong.
Silly New age crap, don't upset the balance of things. I think that magazine had its head up its hole maybe I should write into to them.
I got my things rung up and you should have seen the dozy cow that was bagging my stuff, she kept looking at her cell phone every 2 minutes and giving an attitude, Among my items I had bought 4 packets of salt and vinegar peanuts but when I got home there was only 3, the bastards, the total fucking bastards, I got so mad I kicked the cat and sent it flying, oh don't worry its not my cat I'm looking after it for a neighbour.
Heres what I think, the baggers are given a commission by the store management on every item they can get rung up but not give to the customer, people think I'm paranoid but those are the ones that become food for the Alien Overlords.
I stepped inside and yes it was a terrorist act possibly gas, the toilet bowl had been pebble dashed the paper was all used up, on the floor was some kitchen roll the workers had been using to clean with, it had been urgently pressed into action as shite wipe.
I didn't find any dirty bombs or crazed Muslims, there were some wads of tissue on the floor which I cleverly avoided, and yes the kitchen roll was quite soft and I was impressed at the suction of the toilet.
All cleaned up I went to wash my hands in the sink but it look a little grubby so I didn't bother. Its a well known fact that germs wear off the more stuff you touch so as the produce section was nearby I touched a lot of fruit and veg unnecessarily as I didn't want to go home with dirty hands.
I was standing in line at the checkout glancing at the front pages of the impulse buy magazines and I saw Cosmopolitan or Cosmo as we in the know call it, well I haven't actually ever read one but this cover peaked my interest. "Top ten things men crave in bed" wow some weemen really want to please their men, just not the ones I end up with. What would I crave in bed? well the obvious of course which is a nice cup of tea, Nambarrie being my brand and maybe some Ginger nuts to dunk, and sometimes maybe a Big Mac, to think a woman would go out at all hours to get her man a burger, they taste like shite but I usually don't care until 5 minutes after eating it. Sometimes when I wake up I fancy a nice can of beer or some Chinese barbecue ribs. The woman to fulfill my every craving may just be a keeper but as for 10 cravings, c'mon lads wise up don't be greedy.
The same magazine had on the other side of the page, "how to climax together" I may have to go back and buy that issue as who the hell climaxes together? the man cums and the woman takes care of herself later, that's in the fucking Bible and you can't argue with God, well you could but you'd be wrong.
Silly New age crap, don't upset the balance of things. I think that magazine had its head up its hole maybe I should write into to them.
I got my things rung up and you should have seen the dozy cow that was bagging my stuff, she kept looking at her cell phone every 2 minutes and giving an attitude, Among my items I had bought 4 packets of salt and vinegar peanuts but when I got home there was only 3, the bastards, the total fucking bastards, I got so mad I kicked the cat and sent it flying, oh don't worry its not my cat I'm looking after it for a neighbour.
Heres what I think, the baggers are given a commission by the store management on every item they can get rung up but not give to the customer, people think I'm paranoid but those are the ones that become food for the Alien Overlords.
Now for something completely different we regret to inform you.
Mark Langford who ran an accident compensation firm that collapsed with £100m in debts in 2003 died in a car crash in Spain, this fucker told 2,500 of his staff by a text message they were not going to get paid, to quote " "Urgent. Unfortunately salaries not paid. Please do not contact office. Full details to follow later...."
This man also knocked doon and killed with his Ferrari a 73 year old man and was only fined £1,000 for it .
What was I saying about different rules for the rich? well you rich cunts, even you can't escape Karma.
6 comments:
Before I got my peerage, I used to work on a fruit and veg section in a certain supermarket. It's cunts like you that gave my chronic bowel problems for life.
Still, you should have sorted out the bag packers. Mongs, the lot of them.
Nambarrie tea, how can anyone ever doubt your a man of impeccable taste after that revelation. However.... your mother's Ulster blood ran cold when you referred to having hot flashes ... flush, Knudsen, this side of the pond we flush! Hot flushes ..please take note.
My thought exactly about Mr Langford when I heard the glad tidings on the Home Service (as I persist in calling that load of politically-correct tripe). I expect Mrs L will sue someone for compensation. I would like to be the judge and award her 25p but no costs.
Sorry to hear about your difficulties apropos the "restrooms". Those hefty corks they used to supply with old-fashioned Thermos flasks are a sovereign remedy. I have one in use right at this moment, as does my sister.
BTW, Mr K, you do not have word verification switched on: are you deluged with oodles of auto-spam?
There are 783 things a woman likes in bed. She only has a hope of ever getting 7 of them, 12 if she's married to an Indian, but that's the official number - 783. You're quite right though, Knuds, a nice cuppa is # 422 on the ladies' list. See! Men and women do have some common ground!
Axa looks like a pug.
"who the hell climaxes together? the man cums and the woman takes care of herself later"
Now I remember reason # 437 on the list of why I divorced my first husband.
Matt just round up swarthy black haired people and put them all into camps, what a good idea, I'm surprised no one else has had it.
yer lordship my germs are your germs, its a sign of respect.
ellie now you can look flushed but you get flashes, unless you have a posh toilet that flushes with warm water, is that what you mean?
Mr Warmington a cork my explode like a cannon. Alas that spam is my commenters, you get what you can.
sam problem-child-bride Are we talking plains Indians? cos I could then post about my scalp taking days in the cavalry, quite exciting.
I wish pugs looked like that, I'd become a breeder then.
fat sparrow you weemen and yer big numbers, if you noticed I didn't even reach 10 things to crave.
Post a Comment