Saturday 8:20 a.m.
I had a vivid dream this morning where I ended up trying to console Wayne Rooney, who was caught on camera last night complaining about getting booed by the English fans.
I wakened up this morning feeling very calm.
I like hearing the Liverpool accents of some of the English players like Gerrard and Carragher. I like working class English accents. It's the evil bourgeois southerners who stick in my craw. I think when I get acclaimed President of the Scottish Socialist Republic, which I expect to happen soon after I start floating about, I'll annex the whole of the north of England down to the Wash. I can segue from this petty nationalism into the class war no bother.
Wayne Rooney wears a rosary round his neck when he plays. He's one of us!
If the Little Englanders do get out of the group stage, we can see them crash and burn at some penalty shoot out later on.
Come on, the English basturns!
He's scouse!
He's fat!
He'll come and screw your flat!
Wayne Rooney! Wayne Rooney!
I fell off the wagon last night at half time so I could be more enthusiastic in my support for the Algerians.
You can run and cycle from here till doomsday, but if you eat and drink like that, you will stay a fat basturn, Hotboy!
11 comments:
The sports programmes here were taunting Rooney for his reaction, but I think he was dead right.
A square meal of cheese and onion, weissbier and the leaning tower of dough. Get ye to confession.
PS if the butter was spread thin, no one can say you're not trying. Good work!
Albert? The cheese on the breid was the only dairy I had last week. I'm putting some soya crap on the breid now. Rooney was quite right. Football fans are horrible! Hotboy
I say!
So, you were on the wagon for all of, was it, two days?
MM III
Mingin'! It is my lot to be mocked by the evil bourgeois, and I accept that. Had I tried to be one of the lower middle class officers of capitalism and taught myself to march up and down ... def, dight, def, dight! then by this time I think I would be able to check into a seaside hotel and be looked after by servants until I ran out of dosh and had to accept my fate on the streets going Big Issue, Big Issue. However, instead out of all the possibilities in front of moi, I chose art ... ars longa vita brevis. And the evil bourgeois are all going to hell. Christ said it. It's rational. It's obvious. Can you emanate as a deity or can you not? Are you a flatheid, or have you tried to get passed that first halting ground of the five minute meditation. It's a class thing right enough. Some cats got it, and some cats aint! Hope this helps. Hotboy
In vino vita brevis.
Can blissheids ignore arthritic pain when meditating? That would help.
Albert? Arthritic pain is it now? What kind of excuse is that? I'm older than you and varicose in every limb, but it doesn't stop me. You'd just rather eat the bliss pills and play with your didgeridoo. Hope this helps. Hotboy
I hate to say it, but there's actually some wisdom in what you say.
Still, I must be doing something right if I've no varicose veins in any appendage.
Albert? "Varicose in every limb" is a great expression. I stole it from somewhere, but can't remember where. Hotboy
It is indeed. I googled it without success. Perhaps Brian could identify the source. He's a librarian.
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