why was i motivated to write what i wrote
yesterday?
      let's just say:
  how about your idiotic english peasant simpleton
argues with your mother
        and causes your other neighbour
      to come out and threaten to punch them
for their imbecile behaviour?
   how about that?
       what happened: i was getting a new roof -
i had contractors i paid to change the tiles -
     and he comes out and mouths off
           your mother saying: ooh, they're leaving
too much mess, and you shouldn't be refurbishing
your roof: because my wife is pregnant.
    now you're pushing it... mmm?
                what is she? the ******* ****** mary?
you're protecting a rotting prune of a woman and
she's probably going to plop up a ****** with
that disgusting late 40s womb...
                                        oh this is malice -
i know it's malice, because logic states:
                talk to the people working on the site
      rather than the contractors who paid their
    pontius pilate dues...
                                         i.e. washed their hands clean
of the affair.
                           you know: i can't believe i'm
being dragged to the local level of affairs being "serious"...
but you know... when they say something about
your mother... you start throthing at the mouth:
whether loud or silent... you're going to take to a cobra bite...
         ******* ****** is so panicky about
                                      me that
                                  he finds my laughter in
the night to be filled with nothing but malice -
           well... d'uh!
                                     if i could just squeeze in
a moment in my day (between my drinking sessions)
a chance to spot him... i'd just talk to him for a while...
still, here's to next door... with a dry prune of
a woman's womb... and on the grander scale:
        western society...
                     you know they're having a breeding
program in Poland?
                              yeah... they're paying them to have
babies at the appropriate age... early 20s...
                   i actually can respect a teenage woman
having a baby, the father disappearing
and the state supporting her... but a woman in her 40s
having her first child?        that's not going to happen.
       but hey, yin yang -
                    you forget the father sticking to his
young "bride"...
                       you're going to have to microwave
those fried hash-browns... and let me tell you:
                                                it's like eating slugs.
once more!
             so your wife's pregnancy dictates that
    i should be careful about walking on egg-shells?
                          she's nearly 50! what can she bake
in that oven of hers?!
                           some sort of darwinistic spectacular?!
  this is england...
                            out of its biological framework...
                what? i can't update my roof because your
decaying prune of a woman is having a down foetus?
                         abled men, discriminated against
       having something that could, perhaps, use a pair
of scissors: to spread butter on toast.