As today has been such a good day for The Soapbox, I wanted to end with some positivity...
NAME: Tommy, though he's actually called Thomas but everyone has always called him Tommy.
WHY IS HE AT MY DOOR: N/A
OTHER COMMENTS: Tommy is my Dad. How about that for a plot twist? So, not an actual cunt. He's actually an absolute legend. He was over for Sunday dinner which of course was cooked by me. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, roasties, carrots, brocoli and Yorkshire puds. Roasties were proper but unfortunately the puds were an Aunt Bessies job. It was still a pretty fucking good lunch in all fairness. Biggest regret was the dog had some leftovers and ended up doing a massive shite in the passage on Sunday night, the smell of which awoke me from my slumber.
Anyway, back to my Dad. He's had a fucking rough year since we lost my Mum but he's soldiered on. He doesn't talk about it much but I think he still struggles with it. But he's moving into a new, smaller house soon, so hopefully that's going to help as it won't be full of memories for him. He's 74 but is still at peak fitness. Manages an Over 40's footy team and still plays a full game most weeks as well as playing bowls mid week. Hopefully the pubs will re-open as planned next week so I can take him out for pints next Saturday - it's my Mum's 1 year memoriam so I'd really love it if we could go out, drink to her and talk about some of the happier times.
Sorry this is a bit leftfield, and isn't a post about an actual cunt, but trying to do these in order of when people were at my door and my Dad was after the sleazy tea delivered, so that's what you guys have got tonight. Tomorrow will be a good one.
that's very sweet but it's 11 PM here, I was hoping for an actual cunt one of those idiots who deliver shrimp for a living, you know I like you dad alright Tux but if I wanted to see a cunt who is also a dad, I would have skyped mine
off to bed now, hopefully tomorrow there'll be a proper cunt
that's very sweet but it's 11 PM here, I was hoping for an actual cunt one of those idiots who deliver shrimp for a living, you know I like you dad alright Tux but if I wanted to see a cunt who is also a dad, I would have skyped mine
off to bed now, hopefully tomorrow there'll be a proper cunt
we'll do well to get a better comment than this all year. Absolute gold. My missus, who is working upstairs (admin work, she's not a prostitute) shouted down to ask what I was laughing so much at.
And yeah, sorry it's not an actual cunty cunt. Like I say, sticking to the order that people have been at my door.
it's just the lines about the cunt at your door shagging your mrs and dipping his balls in your drinks work better with barry and constantin than they do your grieving father.
it's just the lines about the cunt at your door shagging your mrs and dipping his balls in your drinks work better with barry and constantin than they do your grieving father.
As today has been such a good day for The Soapbox, I wanted to end with some positivity...
NAME: Tommy, though he's actually called Thomas but everyone has always called him Tommy.
WHY IS HE AT MY DOOR: N/A
OTHER COMMENTS: Tommy is my Dad. How about that for a plot twist? So, not an actual cunt. He's actually an absolute legend. He was over for Sunday dinner which of course was cooked by me. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, roasties, carrots, brocoli and Yorkshire puds. Roasties were proper but unfortunately the puds were an Aunt Bessies job. It was still a pretty fucking good lunch in all fairness. Biggest regret was the dog had some leftovers and ended up doing a massive shite in the passage on Sunday night, the smell of which awoke me from my slumber.
Anyway, back to my Dad. He's had a fucking rough year since we lost my Mum but he's soldiered on. He doesn't talk about it much but I think he still struggles with it. But he's moving into a new, smaller house soon, so hopefully that's going to help as it won't be full of memories for him. He's 74 but is still at peak fitness. Manages an Over 40's footy team and still plays a full game most weeks as well as playing bowls mid week. Hopefully the pubs will re-open as planned next week so I can take him out for pints next Saturday - it's my Mum's 1 year memoriam so I'd really love it if we could go out, drink to her and talk about some of the happier times.
Sorry this is a bit leftfield, and isn't a post about an actual cunt, but trying to do these in order of when people were at my door and my Dad was after the sleazy tea delivered, so that's what you guys have got tonight. Tomorrow will be a good one.
WHY IS HE AT MY DOOR: He's a painter and decorator and he was round to give us a quote to get some work done. This was Sunday just gone. It's now Friday and still no fucking quote. Truly a cunt. Or maybe he's just a bit busy. More likely he's just a cunt.
OTHER COMMENTS: So yeah, he's considered a cunt because he still hasn't gave me a quote. It's not like we want the full house doing. We're talking front room, hall and landing. Before I knew he was a cunt for taking so long, he actually came across as quite timid and polite. Didn't speak much to me but as soon as my missus started talking to him it was like he'd just sniffed a bag of coke in one, couldn't shut him up. Maybe this is the man who my missus will have an affair with. Maybe it won't just be my house he plasters, maybe he'll plaster my missus's tits as well. He's also an odd looking guy. The picture doesn't do it justice but he looks a bit like he was attacked in the face by a violent animal and he's had to have a new face stitched on.
Next in the series is another courier, and boy does he look like the biggest cunt ever.
we'll do well to get a better comment than this all year. Absolute gold. My missus, who is working upstairs (admin work, she's not a prostitute) shouted down to ask what I was laughing so much at.
