So I’d got the daughter to give me a lift uptown to Asda the other day for wine supplies. I’m usually well stocked and on the ball but I’d got a bit drunk and had a little relapse. I’d let the ex come round ‘for a chat’. I felt a bit sorry for him because now he’s homeless and living at/in/his mates/daughters/van. He’s only had several years to sort his shit out and the last 6 months of me doing it for him. So being a bit of a cunt I thought I’d scoop him up into a bit of witchery for the hell of it.
I had my best grey jogging bottoms on that I found when I did my Autumnal Wardrobe Sort. I found them in the put away until it’s freezing section of the top cupboard. Asda specials with a crotch somewhere down by my knees.
So those then and my tomato stained pj top because you find a million ways to eat home grown tomatoes when they all ripen at once in September. Apparently they don’t like it when it’s too hot? Eh?? What?
So sexy pyjamas, no eyebrows and two big spots on my right cheek from the pomchi licking my face after he’s licked his bum and he’s still moving in trying to get a snog. Here have more wine, I’ve got lots in my wine cupboard. And whiskey too you little earinged dwarf from ‘up Braithwaite’ worn like a badge of honour. I crashed shitfaced on one end of the sofa to be woken when he said he was leaving around 9am: a random man from my nightmares in my newly diagnosed cataract eyes.
Anyway, so on the way to Asda I see something so very, very wrong. A fucking ninja lollypop lady.
She is there on a particularly busy main route into Keighlystan off the bypass in full niqab. I just googled that but it’s full postbox attire. These weirdo people trust a postbox lady to help their children cross the road. She can’t fucking see clearly with all that covering around her face. But, maybe she doesn’t need to. She’s like a little black muslim traffic light.
Bless her at least she’s allowed a job.
