Pissed off. Of course things happen. Of course they do. Sometimes they happen more than once. Usually cos you don't learn. But hold on. I'm getting right jacked off with this. As many of you know, my daughter, Melanie, died of fucking cancer. That was shit. And I've had another couple of mates who have.
And here's another one. A Twitter friend. Great lass. NEVER moans. Unlike some people who haven't got a problem and don't even know what a problem is. Like me, for instance.
Does good stuff, she does. Likes animals. Not like Miss World "Oooh I like animals and I want to do some good."
No. Like will make Christmas if she is REALLY lucky but it isn't likely. Like that.
I've had enough of this bollocks. I really have. Let's give it to the sodding banks, India, Pakistan, wherever people are dying of diarrhoea. We can't cure the common cold. We can't sort out cancer without killing the patient half the time.
Let's all extol the virtues of Bill Fucking Gates who's ripped the poor punters off since the eighties with half-baked shit, who has billions of quid he can't spend, and then bungs it on some arse vaccination to some Africans who will now have kids who grow up to be old enough to overpopulate somewhere else. Brilliant. Thanks, Bill, you four-eyed inadequate twat. Thanks you big pharma wankers who've been ripping us off for 95p in the pound since FOREVER.
Thanks God. or whoever the fuck invented cancer. Thank you Church, for having more money and land and everything else than you fucking know what to do with.
I have a plan. Let's have the bloody lot. Let's shove it into sorting out this pile of festering shite. Let's stop bunging it into a country that's still spear-chucking (and those are Prince Philip's fucking words, not mine). And let's cut the shit. And the suits.
Pengy says let's get stuck in and sort it. None of this retire at 50 and have two hours for lunch bollocks. And meetings. Just fucking DO IT.
Now. Argue. You know you want to. Be offensive. I'll ignore you if you're not.