Blooming footie were rubbish. I've 'ad enough of watching that lot through the window and gone back to me snail. Took a bit of finding, mind, it's like a jungle down there. Her should have sorted it by now, she said she 'ad a my-grain, blimey, I don't care whose grain it is, she should leave it where it is and get down this blooming garden.
Mind you, them ferns and stuff are nice and shady and it's hot enough to fry eggs on me 'ead this weather. I could do with a kip, and 'er needs to get to work. Then again, there's tennis on the telly. Times like this 'er suddenly remembers 'er Scottish roots and shouts 'gie't laldy, Andy Murray!'
Whatever that means.
No comments:
Post a Comment