I get back to Ewan's just as he has finished chopping the face off a pig for Mrs. Bubble (it's how she likes it). I strut in with my new laptop and yell at her to leave so Ewan I can get some fucking writing done then BAM!! the laptops on the counter and I'm logging onto the Interweb with some of Ewan's best ham in one hand, and some fries in the other.
So far so good then Ewan tells me that his leg has snapped. It happens all the fucking time. See Ewan has two wooden legs but because he is a 'traditionalist' he won't get metal ones. So every fortnight he has to chisel himself up some new walking sticks, BAM!! I'm shittin' out jokes like a foghorn.
It was a dilemma, after I'd emailed us up an ambulance he asks me to mind the shop. What would you do? I'm like, 'Dude, no can do, I'm trying out this blogging guff.' Then he gets pissy. I mean it's not like he needed a kidney. Again. Fucker's already had both of mine. So I'm trying to write this whatever it's called, a pust or something and simultaneously trying to serve all these jackaninnys who keep getting in the way. That Bitch Bubble is back saying she can still see a bit of snout and I'm like deal with it, I've got some sexy lettering to share with the universe. That put her in her place.
So yeah, Ewan's still down at the NHS carving himself up a new foot and I'm chillin' out with some beers and a couple of dead pigs. Startin' to get the hang of this blogging nonsense. It's pretty cool, pretty neat. It might give me a break from mixing up tunes, I've got my decks out next to the black pudding but I'm not feeling the rhythms today.
Go check out Ewan's blog as well, it's pretty sweet.
http://ewanssexpalace.blogspot.com/
Laterz
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