I’d love to tell you all about my trip to Manchester and how I embraced my inner twat by wearing a Wolf Hat into the cinema to watch Breaking Dawn Pt2 (in lieu of a full wolf pelt like the indomitable mighty Bloggess).
However, I am hurriedly writing this on someone elses PC, because some fucktard with a heavy foot on the accelerator decided to knock down a telegraph pole on my street on Saturday. Thus rendering half the street without a landline or Internet.
Way to go asshole!
Fear not that full details of my protracted conversations with BT Openreach, AOL (and also on an unrelated subject, my bank) will follow in due course. Needless to say it has not improved my outlook on the World or done anything to suggest to me that generally, when all said and done, most people are absolute, total and utter genetic throwbacks with shit for brains and the sooner we are wiped out by a solar flare, the better!
Case in point:
BT Openreach “This is not the correct number to call Mrs Breevin. I will give you another number to call”
Me: “Is that not going to cost me a fortune on my mobile though?”
Them: “Well you could always ring them from your landline Mrs Broovar”
Me: “Can I? Can I though?
FFS and befecking holy Jesus on a fecking bike!!!