..and as each footfall splashed this evening, we conversed.
We chatted about the day and her chums, the minutiae of a peaceful day.
We headed, down, through the rainfall, under the downpour, our
journey planned, our terminus determined. Slow but steady on our course within
the cloud’s heavy tears.
Through the puddled, badly paved, pot holed and drainsought
fluence, in this, in this, in this drought struck realm of horseshitburgers. That
is correct, only in this shithouse, drowning in water, could there be a water
crisis every year and no shortage of dead horse!!!
What a kuntsructed piece of shyte!!!
Down hill we swept and reduced ourselves, brightly lit in
park, our light, no clown around here can provide street lighting in 21 century
UKplc. Onward we ploughed and continued to her class.
I left her there for 1 hour and continued to my billet. Wet
and dry.
The secretive squirrel and I picked up on a little bit of
spice I chucked into the atmos last Frigtag.
Be warned. Do not, after a hard day without repast, break
your fast at 23 hundred hours on the tube system. Oh no!!!
Razor gangs, violent misogynists, rabid heathenish atheistic
rabbis, child porn stars, rapists, faux elastane burners can have their space,
but you break open a hot Cornish Pasty and OOooH err missus. The sharp looks.
So that evening I opined with the heavy weaponry. 203mm.
Mind weapons of mass destruction.
I had ranged up my two marks with a zero probabilistic centre
of error. It hit the fuckers; as I peripherally clocked the expensive shoes
twitching and the boybitchstare from the flank at 3 o’clock, on the phone
telling her coaxially, juxtaposed breeding partner’s issue the boybitch would
be home soon.
Oh yes, I hit the two kuntstruck graduates but they cannot
say a word on their PRChina slaver stated sourced electronic orgasmatrons.
Communicate all your shit you mindphukked D’Witz, I wouldn’t believe anything
your hive mind said. Their world is a lie; any move is career death. Bitchboys
and boybitches.
As I tucked into my pickles, rice and salmon. As my chum hit
the second pasty, the girls got their J2O, the ladies snoozed and we were cheery.
I opened up the unhappiness valve.
“I will bet all the assholes, who live in expensive houses,
and send their children, on company slush funded expenses, to private
schooling, i.e gangster garten, have
sought 6 Sigma, ISO 9000, Queen’s awards for export, investors in People and
all the other compliance shit they try and con us with whilst hiding the horse
meat under marketing bullshit!!”
Fuck me!!! You’d have thought I’d left an IED under their
maidenhoods and blown the arms off a Panda Bear!!!! The carriage cleared and SQ
and I enjoyed our badly needed breakfast.
There is NO THING in the COMPLIANT market that is other than
criminal.
This evening, after I left the SQ and walked back to collect
from class, I then explained the complex legacy of her heritage.
Paddy field and Bog, don’t phukking mess yaa kunts!!
