Dear Jesus fucking christ this qotw is bollocks

( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 21:16, 3 replies)

Dear you.
The day you told my friends my (then) partner was a paedo, and told them I was abusing you because he rejected your advances was a day that crushed my life. The months that followed brought me to my knees. I will never forgive you, but perhaps you deserve some thanks.... you see, those rumours, even tho they left me with no one, totally isolated from everyone i had held dear, made me realise something: That 'friends' who believed such wild rumours never deserved my respect. Its true that man cheated on me and stole from me but if he hadn't i would never have fallen ill. I would never have been diagnosed with IC, and could have lived the rest of my now shortened life in more pain than i currently endure....
But the biggest thing i have to thankyou for is without your isolation of me and abuse of my years of friendship i would never have been contacted by that old friend who welcomed me with open arms to his group. There i met my new partner. Who loves me for who i am, doesnt mind the sickness, and worships the ground i walk on. This group of friends is worth a million of you and your little lapdogs. So thankyou for trying to ruin me because through everything Im the one who has ended up better off for it. Every cloud has a silver lining, the one you threw my way was almost solid silver. Ill never look back and regret the way things ended with you because you where never worth the respect and time i gave you.

sorry for the length but that was cathartic. All the things i could have and can say... but whats the point? karma will deal with them now.
(Serbitar Has a furry shit canon called Whitey., Fri 5 Mar 2010, 20:29, Reply)

Letters to the editors
I can't understand why these never got printed.

Re: 'Killer bat disease on the move' (Jan. 7th).
Don't you mean 'Bat killing disease'? Or even 'Fatal bat disease'? Or am I very much mistaken as to the attacking capabilities of these flying mammals?



--
Yours, etc.



------------------------------------------


I thought last night's celebrations of Arthur Guinness's 250th birthday was perfectly sublime. Some more dancing girls would have been better, but the choice of Tom Jones to toast the occasion was, in my opinion, decidely inspired!

Thanks for the free pint, it really made everything else worthwhile!


--
Yours, etc.


-----------------------------------------------------------

Sir,
Quite a lot has already been written about Mr. Lee, and I daren't unnecessarily add to it. However, I would like to argue that certain mutterings I have heard over the weekend, juxtaposing his departure with Mr. Lenihan's struggle with cancer, to be demonstrably unfair. He has the greatest untapped potential of all our public figures, and his value to his former party would have been far greater than any of his colleagues. In fact, I do believe the current government should waste no time in making him an offer of employment.


--
Yours, etc.
(Clerk T Hazarde are all the wine, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 20:00, 1 reply)

Dear Cyclists
As a pedestrian, it's hard enough finding footpaths that aren't covered in dog shit, have broken paving slabs or some inconsiderate bastard's car parked on it without having someone bearing down on you on a mountain bike. The road's the place for you, not the footpath.

And to the cunt who nearly wiped me out the other night while walking the dog - Thanks. At least your lights were working, you had a cycle helmet on and a hi-vis jacket, so what the buggery fuck were you doing on the footpath at 9pm in a quiet village?

Don't get me started on the ones who sail through red lights and then have the temerity to ring their bells at pedestrians daring to cross while the green man is on. Aaaaarrrghhhh.
(GingerIrishTosser isn't dead yet., Fri 5 Mar 2010, 19:43, 4 replies)

/sly repost

Tom,
If you're reading this, please can we have the £1200 deposit that you cost us by deciding not to pay any rent for 4 months. I know we had some good times, like the birthday cake we made you with "TWAT" written in icing on the top and the Kerry Katona novel we jokingly bought you for the same birthday, but you should really know that Steely Dan are shit and that beard makes you look like a fundamentalist gnome. And you can forget about getting your Xbox back.

( Damien's Hearse, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 19:38, Reply)

Another "ex" one.
Dear Ex.

When we broke up, it was hard. Not hard because of my missing you, or the other way around - we both knew it was over long, long ago.
It was hard, because I thought I would hardly see my daughters...and after reading some post on here, I realise (I already did, TBH) that you are not as bad as some, and in fact, only ever show love for our daughters, and you know that I (and my partner) do too.

For that, I must thank you, and I wish you well with your new partner and your new baby. I know you won't favour any of your children over any of the others.

I thank you for phoning and telling me what is going on in their lives, I thank you for saying "I have arranged for the kids to do xxxxxxx because of xxxxxx, however, pop in for a cup of tea for a few hours and see them, and have them for longer next week."

I thank you for not caning me financially - when I get a pay rise, the money I give you to help with the upbringing of our children goes up too. It's only fair.

It's for these reasons that our girls are happy, funny and smart - if only other women (and some men, of which I have read about on these pages) could see the benefits of not being a complete cunt when they split up can bring to their children.

Thank you,
(dchurch bah, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 19:31, 4 replies)

Dear London
Over the past two and a half years I've had many a reason to be frustrated by you - the crowds, the financial (and metaphorical!) diarrhoea I seem to frequently catch off the dirty Thames water, the shoebox of a house I'm forced to live in - but really, I have nothing but eternal gratitude to you for the way you've changed my life.

The shit-scared and severely depressed 22-year-old who pitched up in Stoke Newington back then, just having escaped an appalling and abusive 5 year relationship is someone I barely recognise now. I've got a better job than I ever thought someone as under-qualified as I am could hope for, I've almost cut out the class As and drinking till comatose (and when I do those things now, I'm actually enjoying myself!), and, most importantly, I've met some of the most incredible, lovely people ever here. To the Harringay massive (who may well be geeky enough to be reading this): I don't deserve friends as amazing as you :-)

So, London, when I walk down the river Lea on a Saturday morning and see the sun coming up over Walthamstow marshes, when we crash out of the pub and down Green Lanes at 3 am, when we spend the whole of a summer Sunday in Finsbury Park just talking crap, I guess that it's not all down to you. A clean break from the old me could have easily happened somewhere else, but it didn't. You're a beautiful city, and the spur-of-the-moment decision I made to quit my old job, get the hell out and come here was the best one I ever made.

POP goes the b3ta virginity!
(lexicon_rose cider queen of N15, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 19:14, 5 replies)

Dear Metal Gods.
I've been a loyal supporter for nigh on twenty years now. It irks me somewhat that I missed out on your glory years but you know what? I have the albums and I'm glad I got the chances to see you that I did.
I wore your name across my back during the dark days of the nineties and will go to my grave swearing that the Ripper albums are flawed but worth a listen.
And when you came back with Angel of Retribution I was overjoyed.

Then after that is when it went pear-shaped.

Thing is, and there is no easy way to say this, a double album based on a medieval astrologer was just not one of your better ideas. When one of your albums has more orchestral wibbling than metal something has gone horribly wrong.


Rob, Glenn, KK, Ian, Scott... you have maybe one more good album left in you. Crank up the Flying V's, write a couple of songs about space robot aliens with chainsaws, squeeze the word "desolisating" in somewhere and we're good to go.
(Big D, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 19:03, 2 replies)

A Letter from God to Man
By Scroobius Pip v. Dan le Sac

Hey There, how, how's it going?
Long time no see.
I know I haven't been around much lately
But…it didn't seem like you wanted me to be
The last time I sent down a message you nailed it to the cross
So I figured I'd just leave you to it, let you be your own boss

But I've been keeping an eye on you, I have,
and it's amazing how you've grown.
With your technological advances and the problems you've overthrown,
And all the beautiful art you've created with such grace and such finesse,
But I admit there are a few things I'm afraid have impressed me less.

So I'm writing to apologize for all the horrors committed in my name,
Although that was never what I intended,
I feel I should take my share of the blame.
All the good I tried to do was corrupted
when organised religion got into full swing,
What I thought were quite clear messages were taken to unusual extremes.
My teachings taken out of context to meet the agendas of others,
Interpretations taken to many different ways and hidden meanings discovered

Religion became a tool, for the weak to control the strong
With all these new morals and ethics, survival of the fittest was gone
No longer could the biggest man simply take whatever he needed
‘cause damnation was the price if certain rules were not heeded
Some of the deeds committed in my name
just made me wonder were I went wrong.
Back at the start when I created this, the foundation seemed so strong.
See all the elements were already here, long before I began,
I just kind of put it all together
I didn't really think out a long-term plan.

I made the sun an appropriate distance and laid the stars across the sky
So you could navigate the globe or simply watch the sun rise
I covered the earth with plants and fruits,
Some for sustenance and some for beauty
I made the sun shine and the clouds rain
so their maintenance wasn't your duty
I tried to give each creature its own attributes
without making them enveloped
I gave you all you all your own space to
grow and in your own way space to develop

I didn't know such development would cause rifts and jealousy
Cause you to war against each other and leave marks on this planet indelibly
You see, I wasn't really the creater, I was just the curator of nature
I want to get something straight with homosexuals right now: I don't hate ya
I was a simple being that happened to be the first to wield such powers
I just laid the ground, it was You that built the towers

It was You that invented bombs, and the fear that comes with them
And it was You that invented money, and the corrupt economic systems
You invented terms like just-war and terms like friendly fire
And it was You that didn't know
when to stop digging deeper, when to stop building higher
It was You that exhausted the resources I carefully laid out on this earth,
And it was You that even saw these
problems coming but accredited them little worth
It was You that used my teachings for your own personal gain
And it was You that committed such tragedies,
even though they were in my name

So I apologize for any mistakes I made, and when my words misconstrued
But this apology's to mother nature, cause I created you
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:57, 4 replies)

Dear Dyke-Upstairs
SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!

All day, every day I have to listen to you shouting, moaning on the phone, arguing with the poor woman you call your partner. It's hard enough trying to work at home without hearing you "shitting in the milk" all the time.

Your voice is annoying - I can hear it over my TV, my music, everything - even when I have my headphones in.

Why won't you just fuck off and die, you miserable old boot.
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:55, 3 replies)

Good evening, London.
I thought it time we had a little talk. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin... I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here this evening. Well, you see, I'm not entirely satisfied with your performance lately... I'm afraid your work's been slipping and... and well, I'm afraid we've been thinking about letting you go.

Oh, I know, I know. You've been with the company a long time now. Almost... let me see. Almost ten thousand years! My word, doesn't time fly? It seems like only yesterday... I remember the day you commenced your employment, swinging down from the trees, fresh-faced and nervous, a bone clasped in your bristling fist... "Where do I start, sir?", you asked, plaintively. I recalled my exact words: "There's a pile of dinosaur eggs over there, youngster", I said, smiling paternally all the while. "Get sucking".

Well, we've certainly come a long way since then, haven't we? And yes, yes, you're right, in all that time you haven't missed a day. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Also, please don't think I've forgotten about your outstanding service record, or about all of the invaluable contributions that you've made to the company... Fire, the wheel, agriculture... It's an impressive list, old-timer. A jolly impressive list. Don't get me wrong.

But... well, to be frank, we've had our problems too. There's no getting away from it. Do you know what I think a lot of it stems from? I'll tell you... It's your basic unwillingness to get on in the company. You don't seem to want to face up to any real responsibility. To be your own boss. Lord knows you've been given plenty of opportunities... We've offered you promotion time and time again, and each time you've turned us down. "I couldn't handle the work, Guv'Nor", you wheedled. "I know my place". To be frank, you're not trying, are you?

You see, you've been standing still for far too long, and its starting to show in your work... And, I might add, in your general standard of behavior. The constant bickering on the factory floor has not escaped my attention... nor the recent bouts of rowdiness in the staff canteen. Then of course there's... Hmm. Well, I didn't really want to have to bring this up, but... Well, you see, I've been hearing some disturbing rumors about your personal life. No, never you mind who told me. No names, no pack drill... I understand you are unable to get on with your spouse. I hear that you argue. I am told that you shout. Violence has been mentioned. I am reliably informed that you always hurt the one your love... the one you shouldn't hurt at all. And what about the children, its always the children who suffer, as you're well aware. Poor little mites. What are they to make of it? What are they to make of all your bullying, your despair, your cowardice and all your fondly nurtured bigotries? Really, its not good enough, is it?

And its no good blaming the drop in work standards on and management either... though to be sure, the management is very bad. In fact, let us not mince words... The Management is terrible! We've had a string of embezzelers, frauds, liars and lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions. This is plain fact.

But who elected them? It was you! You who elected these people! You who gave them the power to make your decisions for you! While I'll admit that anyone can make a mistake once, to go on making the same lethal errors century after century seems to me nothing short of deliberate. You have encouraged these malicious incompetents, who have made your working life a shambles. You have accepted without question their senseless orders. You have allowed them to fill your workspace with dangerous and unproven machines.

You could have stopped them. All you had to say was "No". You have no spine. You have no pride. You are no longer an asset to the company. I will, however, be generous. You will be granted two years to show me some improvement in your work. If at the end of that time you are still unwilling to make a go of it... you're fired. That will be all. You may return to your labours.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:45, 1 reply)

Dear Ex
You were a cunt of the ultimate sort. I regret the tears I cried over you when you dumped me. Ironically before your 'boys only' holiday. Fuck you. You treated me like shit. You made me feel less of a person. Three years down the line and I still hate you for everything you did to me and I hope your genitals rot off.

I'm 100% happy with Mr Sprinkles, he's more of a man than you could ever even hope to be.
Go to hell.

Wishing you harm,
kellysprinkles.
(kellysprinkles dying for a pee since, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:33, 3 replies)

Dear angry IT support guy
you should have tried harder at school.

Yours

Everyone who has had to deal with you miserable fucks.
(el perro grande, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:24, 42 replies)

Dear Mr 'n' Mrs Fat and kids
Exercise.
(roysin, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 17:18, Reply)

Dear Obi Jnr:
( If your looking for funnies look elsewhere)
Now you are mastering the lost art of reading I can say things I doubt I would ever say to your tiny little face. Thank you, Thank you for giving me a reason to carry on after mummy went to heaven, thank you for still saying Im the best daddy ever even after I dye your pink dress a vile mush of colours in the washing machine, thank you for the hugs and smiles when I walk through the door that brighten even the shitteyest of days.

Thank you for listening to my silly stories and strange advice, thank you for so far not growing up like one of those vile feral little shits that give kids everywhere a bad name, thank you for prefering to watch 80s cartoons with me on youtube rather than cbeebies. Thank you for making me so proud of you, and thank you for being mine.

XXX OWK
(Obi wanker nobi Its not a bug, its an unexpected feature, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:48, 12 replies)

One more
My mate once asked me to proof-read a letter to the housing benefit people.. So I did and sent back this:

***
Shaft Fanny-Pack
8 Burglary Street
Shell
HUx xxx

Darling Size,

I have apprehended proof of my “Somewhere-to-live” Detriment and Window Tax medal. I fancy appealing on the argument that the Doss-house detriment granted is both stingy and, in my mental state, bollocks.

The spasmodic pittance doled out - £45.50 – hinges on the ‘raw deal’ guessed by the Cleavage Examiner, yelling that the infrequent penalty I am charged with - £80.77 – is stratospheric based on identical pig-sties over there look.

Whilst this may be hogwash, the damage of £45.50 is taking the piss. I have a nemesis holed up in an utter shit-tip with a completely different harvest to myself who robs £60+ Shack Cash from you now and then.

I would therefore insist that you circumvent the Slit Office to think again about the ‘villainy’. Frankly, I would be horrified if you wandered around my house for no reason.

I would also suggest that you get a fucking move on, as my landlord will bleed me dry on 02/03/2007 and I’m on the bones of my arse as it is. I have been penniless since 02/02/2007, and it is blatant that my planned illness will bag me extra benefits. If I can be arsed, I’ll let you know if I make any cash on the side. Clearly I am scared that my landlord will drill my kneecaps if I cannot come up with the goods when he comes knocking.

If you seek any overly excessive legends please waste your time in flagging me down,

Hear hear,
Arse Demon
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:48, Reply)

An open letter to users.
I have to support around 2000 people other than yourself, so I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of seeing each and every one of your little issues as being as critical to the company as you obviously do. My prioritising of these problems isn't a personal affront to you, but a sad reality. The simple fact of the matter is that your complete inability to grasp the simplest of tasks in Word simply isn't as important as getting a server going again and your screaming down the phone about it won't change that. Ever. If it's really that important to you, try looking it up on Google.

Whilst we're about it, I'd like to point out that you're the one calling me up for support, not the other way around. When I ask you to do something, please don't explain to me what you think the problem is and why you think you shouldn't be doing what I'm suggesting, but rather something else entirely. I'm afraid that it's painfully obvious that you don't know what you're talking about. Trying to be helpful is one thing, but telling me how to do my job is something else.

In conclusion, please try to bear in mind that being paid to support you is not the same as being paid to be your whipping-boy. I won't stand for it, so please try not to act surprised when that attitude gets you an attitude in return.
( Kroney, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:36, 4 replies)

Dear other road users,
I know lots of cyclists are complete and utter cunts. I know that you despise them and their highway code ignoring ways, but we're really not all like that.

Please stop trying to kill me everyday.

Love and kisses,

Moey.
( Moey, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:27, 12 replies)

I remember...
I'm one of those people who are blessed (or perhaps cursed) with remembering vividly the details of every sordid affair I've had. I remember when you worked with me at that store. I remember the sneaky glances, and when I'd catch you, you'd quickly look away shyly. I remember that you were seeing somebody, not that it stopped me. I remember fixing your car multiple times. I remember going to pick you up at unreasonable hours because the same car had failed... AGAIN.

I remember most of all the way you pushed me away when you discovered you were pregnant. Nine months passed, and I was not even considered as a part of the life of this new person. Nevermind that you, me, nor your boyfriend (maybe husband now?) know who the actual father of this beautiful little girl is. You will continue to lie, assuring your companion that she really is his daughter.

I may never know for sure if she is my daughter. That hurts more than knowing she is and being denied. At least in those circumstances I could justifiably be angry with you. The way things sit now, if I feel angry towards you, I feel like a fool, and that I should instead be angry with myself. I remember her name, even though I've never met her. Friends keep me updated, since you won't. She's adorable, smart, and quite honestly... looks like the product of our lust.

I remember that in about 16 years, when she's legally an adult, that I must find her, and offer the option to discover who her father is.

Finally, I remember that should she decline the opportunity, it's likely because her mother is a crazy, spoiled twunt.
(Floz Nietsnezolf doesn't have photoshop, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:17, Reply)

Dear BBC
Please stop asking me to write an essay on my mulitcultural experiences and my knowledge of diversity in the community for a broadcast engineers post.

It has no bearing what so ever on the job and makes you look like a bunch of cunts.

Yours,

Bamboo Steamer
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:05, 2 replies)

Dearest ex-mrsESP,
I recently broke up with you despite knowing full well that you were deeply in love with me. It wasn't because I didn't love you back; that you're 7 years my senior; your crazy yet endearing morning-after hair or that our relationship was all settled after far too short a time. I loved every aspect of you and our relationship but one.

It was because you have no ankle definition despite you being perfectly in shape. Mental images of going to fancy parties with you on my arm haunted my idle moments. You in high heels looking not as incredible as you should. I found myself hoping you would never wear anything but knee boots around me.

I have broken up with possibly the only love of my life due to a genetic anomaly of the least important sort. You probably have less of a chance of getting a broken cankle. Ironically it's increased your chance of a broken heart and for that I apologise. You deserve a man who will not constantly avoid you from the knees down.

yours,

ESP
(ElectricSexPants would like to be the Sultan of something, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:03, 3 replies)

I only
Told you I loved you because you were an emotionaly abusive, psycho bitch and it was easier than dealing with the self harm and screaming arguments.

I didn't. Ever.

You did teach me a valuable lesson though. Not to put up with that shite. Watching you cry on the floor threatening to kill yourself was my second birth. It made me a stronger person. I'm now happily married to an ex (yes, that one, the one you caused a massive argument with when you said to her then boyfriend "what will you do when they get back together?" and have a 4 month old son who's the center of my world.

So you will never read this. Good. Fuck you and thank you in equal measures.
(Rimfeast, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:03, Reply)

I found another
Remember this? www.b3ta.com/questions/letterstheywillneverread/post653163
Nothing came of it, so I was asked to draft a letter to their MP. And so:
****
Darling Pompous Vicar,

We are scribing this epistle to ask for your hindrance in our tight spot. We are on the lookout for your benefit in holding up proper lodgings.

Once upon a time, we etched a note to Covert Badger-Forceps MBE in Swindle 2001, wretchedly with no reaction. We vindicated that due to dazzling lease debts Vast Hamlet Congress Lodging Realm would not redistribute us to a farmhouse that would flatter our hunger.

We immediately have two bedlam villas, which is not just what the doctor ordered as we have three ancestors. Our toddler, Martian is four intervals old and has roasted our street lights since he was automated. The other flat was conquered by our two emperors whose qualities were misery and torture.

We also declare an Aunt who rolls up and hangs about with us five times an hour. This is due to her persistence with evil.

We would be most ungrateful if you could bestow disbelief on our jam, as we cannot obstruct this orchestra.

Yours fraudulently,
Mr A. Bewilderment
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:57, 2 replies)

Dear England,

It has been some time since I last saw you so I thought I should drop you a line. It only seems like yesterday since I worked in the basement of Harrods selling nuts, who could believe it has been almost 20 years, and yet each day I spent working in the basement felt like 20 years, ironic isn’t it.

I hope you are keeping well. I have heard on the grape vine that you have had a few money worries; I don’t mean to say I told you so but I did warn you about taking banking advice from that shifty America, but, you never did listen.

Has the weather improved since I saw you last? I remember with no fondness the cold and dark days you gave us but, I do still smile when I remember the old lady in my street at Barons Court who would convince me that 3 degree’s was a pleasant day and shame me into not taking a coat. Do you think that Doctor who treated me for the influenza and whose bill I skipped out on is still looking for me?

If you see them about the place would please remember me to Lisa, Chelsea, Sarah, Lindsy, Chrissie, the other Sarah, Emma, Louise, Carol, Sam, Bec, Antonia, Helen, Joanne, the other Emma with the huge tits and Dianne. There are few others I can’t remember but, if you recognize them please pretend I remembered them too. By the way, if any of them are looking for me and have devilishly handsome 19 year old children with good teeth, tell you don’t know where I am.

I am still sorry for making that joke that the only a true Englishman is of Saxon decent, which you can tell from his red hair, and that all the others are basically French (although I still stand by my comment that the Normans ARE French). I am also sorry for suggesting you missed your last chance to become a great empire again 1942 when you rejected the introduction of German efficiency.

Things at home are still not back to normal I am afraid and we really do insist that you return the Ashes you cheated us out of recently, and please explain how the Rugby World Cup finished up in the hands of the French after we entrusted it to you for safe keeping! (Makes me think that my joke really does have some truth to it).

You will be pleased to know we dispatched Uncle Rupert to the United States as punishment but, he is still refusing to give back control of your media (he was always a bit of a bastard). And for crying out loud don’t send that smarmy wanker Wills back here again. If you don’t want him what makes you think we do?

All the folks at Ramsy Street and Summer Bay send their best regards but, there has been some quite mumbles that they are falling out of favor. Surely this can’t be true?!?

I will sign off now to take a swim in my private pool on my quarter acre block with a 2 story 4 bedroom house in my leafy suburb close to the city that I have bought with an average wage.

Lots of Love,

bad advice

PS Nick the bar man at the Cooggee Bay asks if you can remind the next set of gap year students that although not compulsory tipping is welcome

PPS Dad says you can keep Pete Andre’, he reckons he would happier with you

PPPS Uncle Warnie has lost his blow up cock and asks you if you can keep an eye out for it

ba
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:33, 11 replies)

Dear Tim
Remember that conversation we were having in the pub 2 months ago about you going on about my cleaner doing the housework and ironing and you bitching about the fact that you had to do it in your household because your lovely wife works god knows how many hours a week at a health farm, well......remember I said to you "have you been doing anything else today Tim" of which you replied "yes I went to the dentist". Fine - I then asked you if you'd had your teeth whitened, seeing as you were on about it years ago for me to find the wretched chemicals off the internet the get it cheaper, well remember Tim, you went ballistic because I was taking the piss out of you and your highly tuned vanity ? Well - its like every little banter in the Wheatsheaf pub.

IF YOU CAN'T TAKE IT DON'T GIVE IT

Remember Tim you told me to give you a wide berth when I went in the pub next time, well guess what, you fuckwit, I HAVE, an everyone is LAUGHING AT YOU for your petty insolence and childish behaviour.

NO MORE OF MY FRESHLY LAID FREE RANGE HENS EGGS EITHER - OR MY HOME CURED BACON

Twat. Little things in little villages make news !
( Tiggy the diver, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:33, 6 replies)

go on then shoot the messenger..
I send letters to my patients from work, just registration forms and questionaires about their operations and shit like that.. i got a call today from one of the old biddies daughters ''please do not send my mother important letters that she cant read, we have asked you this before'' .. ''im sorry madam, why cant your mother read them?'' .... "shes blind, we told you this last time you asked her for her email address.''

shit, of course, i did actually remember after she said that, but I actually immediately thought it was because her mother couldnt read because she was as spasticated as she sounded.

ahhh thank fuck its friday.
(nettestar meeow, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:32, 1 reply)

go on then shoot the messenger..

(nettestar meeow, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:27, 1 reply)

Dear Spud...
Thank you for being there with silent compassion and empathy when that bitch walked out on me two days before my little brothers funeral.
Thank you for the wide-eyed look of terror I get when I let a meaty one fly, it always cheers me up.
Thank you for giving me a reason to get up, and go to sleep.
Thanks for sticking with a hairy,lazy and pointless twat like me.


There's a nice pigs ear in the cupboard for later.
(NiplyTheElder tried to slip clunge into a conversation on, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:16, 3 replies)