Friday, 21 August 2009

How Fickle Thy Fancy

I often buy just your general run-of-the-mill women's magazines if there is footy on the telly. I have made a small fortune from having photo's and poems ect published in these publications, but I like to do the puzzles as the boys roar abuse at the box. Mind you, the puzzles aren't all that challenging, but it passes the time in a lazy-arsed way (apart from Sudoku which I am utter shite at!) and I'll enter online, the puzzle answers. Never won yet. Often in these magazines they repeat stories of the same nature. The cases of the Turkish toyboys and the stupid, fucking older women who are drawn in by these greasy slimeballs take the whole biscuit barrel.

The story that turned my stomach more than others was the one of Mary and Vitol. Vitol was 26 and Mary was 71. She was targeted and groomed wonderfully by this man. He was a handsome Turk whose silver-tongue won this silver-haired old numpty over. In less than two years he managed to marry her. Naturally, he didn't get granted a British visa - never even set foot in British soil - and instead settled for second best. Conning her into selling her house and posting him all the proceeds from it so he could "make a love-nest'' back home inTurkey for them. She then took a flight to Ankara to surprise him and he flipped out saying he didn't want her to come until their house was ready. After two years of toing and froing the lira finally dropped.

So here was a case where a 26 year old felt 'love at first sight' with a crinkly face-and-arsed 71 year old. All it took was menial gifts, walks in the moonlight, (coz daylight was too dodgy) texting and waterworks to suck the life and means out of an old dear. She didn't listen to the words of warning her offspring gave her when it came to selling the house and valuables. Of course, being in love meant sex on tap and the man had to shag this powdery old puddock to seal an aura of truth between them. Apparently, he loved her saggy bits, rashes under her tits , baggy breeks, removable teeth, thinning hair, and failing eye-sight. But just how blind did he think she really was?

In the wedding photo she wore her hair in pigtails in a desperate attempt to look younger. The wedding officials' smirk in the pictures with them read 'yet another mug'. It's just a shame that many stupid old slappers are being taken for a visa. What they really need is a mirror and a reality check!

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Skin Crawler!

He's only bloody gone and done it. My son Ross is off for a tattoo, today. Much to my dismay. I personally hate them - only on the skin of my children, though. He's not happy with just burning the fuck out of himself on sunbeds, he's got to add what just looks like bruises from a distance. I dread his return. He has one of the most perfect faces, a right pretty-boy he is, with the most blemish free skin. Hardly a scar or broken bone from childhood. Now that's all a self-inflicted war zone! God knows what he's coming back with.

What happened to the days where he and his mates were happily raising our council tax by drawing big dicks with jizz coming out in indelible ink (like some 34-year-olds-I-know!) on every wall and fence on the way home from places?

I'll pop a picture of it up later and give my opinion on it. Once I break my fucking heart looking through the photo albums where only I can see the golden halo above - and only he can see the horns and the devious smile.


Sunday, 16 August 2009

Ever The Pessimist!

Me and me son put coupons on yesterday. That footyball stuff!

I won. Not a lot. He didn't.

And I predicted the 4-0 thrashing we (Scotland) got from Norway or whomever!

I hate football. Really.