With my insatiable avarice for good times and excitement I see from my calendar that July is truly hotting up to be massive! You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you but I was just looking at the calendar and thought to myself
“Shit! The boiler is up for service tomorrow”
Imagine my disappointment when I realised i’d got the wrong month, and so will have to wait for a whole month, but not to worry, tomorrow is our family trip to the dentist;
Oh no its not!
They’ve cancelled, and sent me the notification by text, like being dumped by a teenager, they want me to call up and rearrange another appointment, Fuck you dentist, treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen, so the saying goes. My teeth may all fall out but at least I don’t have to capitulate and make a u-turn, which of course I will and swallow my pride and possibly my teeth. I’ve met a new dentist, maybe i’ll run away with him (register with the practice he works at, I know they’re open and he deals with M’s teeth, remember M?) So like a shitty government I will have to change my mind and u-turn, re-negue on the decision to fund mine and my children’s oral health when all I needed was £900,000 to paint a union jack my bin because it is of course bin day tomorrow, which is a thinly veiled effort to call to mind our PM’s decision to paint his bloody ministerial aeroplane’s tail with a flag, at the detriment of providing free meals for kids this summer of families who are having financial issues due to the pox. What a long sentence. What a c***.
This post and the analogy doesn’t properly stand up but in the future Punks and Rasta’s will cherish these blog posts as scriptures for a way from a virus ridden past into an uncertain future.