just whinging

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just whinging

Anyone want to escape into a virtual pitcher of Pimms?

It's a warm Friday evening and I'm stuck at home when I want to be in a beer garden. My eldest has spent all day perfecting the art of winding me up and it's still hours til her bedtime. The cat's been crapping all over the place. The washing machine is only pretending to wash clothes. The bloody printers have let me down yet again with a litany of excuses that would impress a cowboy builder...

Can I hide in here? Please? Anybody want a cool drink and a peanut?

* empties ice cubes into bucket and pulls out deckchair *

No, but I wouldn't mind a nice shag and a curry. Sounds asif I'm in the same boat except I have two dogs who shat like cows, a dryer that washes and I'm envious because I'd love my daughter to spend all day winding me up but my wife has just left me and took the printer, digicam and all three credit cards with her.

There's nothing more mind-teasing than the incomprehensible eagerly avowed -
Dennett

You two sound made for each other.
I'm sorry 2Lou but I have a real pitcher of Pimms. God isn't the welfare state the most wondrous thing?

 

Styx, give me the relevant forms to fill in, would you? (As it worked out, eldest daughter’s numerical dyslexia – she still can’t read a clock – meant an early bedtime for her and a pitcher of Peroni and Strictly Ballroom for us. God, I love that stupid film. Dr Jekyl, you could be on to something. Some romantically misguided go by star signs – you propose compatibility of pet excretions. Who’s to know? You may be right. Let me know if it works out for you.
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