Word up! This wedding malarky is pissing me off no end. Latest is that my mum's decided that's she not going to turn up at the the town hall for the splicing ceremony. She says that it's because she thinks her presence will turn the whole thing into a three-ring circus but I know it's because there's an all-day 'Location, Location, Location Revisits the Mess They Left The Poor Sods In Last Time' on UK Shite. She's also obviously trying to wheedle out of coughing up for a gift. Miserable old bat.
Well, she's not heard the last of it. I've already changed the photo on her bus pass to one of Thora Hird and if she goes looking for the rat on a string she calls a dog, she's going to get a nasty shock (as did the hound when I crept up behind it with a meat skewer) .
Meanwhile, getting my beloved into a presentable state for the Big Day is taxing the experts somewhat. Last I heard, they were sending out for reinforcements and a large bucket. I've also been on the dog (and bone, that is) to the media to try and defray some of the costs. Hello! and OK! seem to be fully booked with King and Queen Chav's latest sprog and some old fogies' wedding which is apparently going off on the same day. Best offer I've secured is from What Caravan! who want us to pose for the photos in front of their latest Super Sprite 93 model. If I can get them to throw in a week's touring in Scotland, I might go for it. Mind you, I understand it's a bit windy around the Trossacks at this time of year.*
* insert your own gag at this point
2 comments:
as a great man once said, "Aye Caramba!"
Skewered doggie can't be any worse than haggus, in my experience. And if I spelled that wrong, it doesn't deserve to be spelled correctly. Vile stuff. I do hope we get to see some photos of this affair.
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