1 Comment

  1. I care not for the harmless pastimes of those smokers of weed… I am fuming, and am about to go off like Robinson Crusoe on Kylie Minoge. Ohhhh how I wish to be released from my Council Estate Prison…. I returned home from pub, yesterday morning, and stopped in my lobby to stare at my beloved pictures (framed) of a Crying Clown and one of a beautiful Gypsy Lady. I went on to the lounge to find an ashtray. – The binter had not yet cleared it of Park Drive butts she had smoked the night before. I avoided the wet dog turds, and strode over to my beautiful Battered Copper Fire Surround. As I stroked it, I heard the mumblings of a herd outside. – A pack of people Braddocking on my lawn!!! I detest their mid blue snorkel jackets and wipe clean shoes and Galoshers! My nephew (Michael Hunt) is one of em – Hi Mike! – They stand there, sucking that stuff out of each others noses like pups on a teat! And none of em can be recognised in their many pocketed snorkel jackets! I then ran em off my garden, but tripped over the frame of our old, burnt mattress.. I urge the youth to stop Braddocking and go back to harmless weed! Braddockers? – Git out of my garden and take yer red noses and spotty upper lips (along with yer godawful Snorkel Jackets) and shunt off to another country, cos yer clogging up My England. – My Lionheart – My property! – Police? – Make this foul practice illegal, – and us estate folks can get on with our usual business… GET OFF WITH YA!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.