Stop the clocks, this is a slender fungus, a delightful decay, a rotten revelation call it what you want. I know if I fell down while running through the woods away from some sort of supernatural being and put my hand in this I would say “Eeuchh” and wipe it on my trousers or shorts depending on the season and then carry on running. After my escape, presuming I did, I would take my trousers or shorts off and put them in the washing machine with the dirty tea towels and the mop cover for the floor steamer. These trousers or shorts would then become my DIY or gardening gear. Thats all I’m going to say on the matter.
Not much happened today of interest aside from the instructions for the pub quiz tomorrow night which were:
Turn up at 8ish unless you want chilli in which case its 6:30.
Try and think of a good team name.
Then at the last moment this evening Mrs T went to the school to a meeting concerning the German exchange; lots of instructions over passports, forms to fill in, passports, more forms and passports. But then it turns out that some one, a human, had done a poo next to where the goal posts are kept after a match at the Millennium Green (a field where the kids play football on a weekend, our team’s home ground) A place where during the week dogs roam free and do their business all over the pitch unless the owners pick it up, but there are a lot of night hawks there, they will not pick up shit as a rule, they play dumb like their dog wouldn’t do a shit at night and if it did it would go in the bushes. Dogshit! Literally!
So someone had done a shit and covered it with toilet paper, next to the goal posts and apparently someones dog had rolled in it! It’s a disgusting but deliciously juicy village scandal. Some might say its a Poozle. This week I had an alibi as I was at the most antiquated financial investment company in the world, many weren’t . This one will run and run, and with a bit of fanning of the flames will likely continue for a long time! Theres already a lot of folk on the football club’s what’s ap group getting their excuses in. Some too quiet, there’s a delicate balance to be taken in matters of public defecation, its not an acceptable action on children football pitches.
RIP Kieth Flint, the Prodigy, a wild man of rave a gentleman off the stage, and the type of rock star who your parents would have warned you about; there won’t be another.