The trip to go food shopping is occasionally spiced up by an inappropriate erection or being stared at by middle aged humans for flicking through the glossy pages of women's interest magazines such as Take A Break, Nice Boys Fortnightly or Spring Clean Vulva. Perhaps the greatest headline I ever saw was "Sausage Rolls Saved My Hubby's Serevered Arm!" I couldn't take a picture though, as I was embarrassed at my girl's mag voyeurism and had already crushed my lettuce with a hastily packed pineapple. I could handle no more of the tutting Nazi on the till. "Stop judging me, Wendy!" I wanted to roar at her but instead made a feeble kind of robot beep, sweating as I fumbled with my change in the charity boxes. RNLI or the one with poppies?? This is what it feels like when doves cry. Like a tumour growing in your testies.
Anywho, look how fucking happy Mrs Baldie is. Maybe OK! gave her a fat cheque for a wedding like Jade Goody.
Future headlines I yearn for: "Man Shits Own Head In Image of Jesus", "Plumber Cured AIDS Ironically Killed By Rape Monkey", or Septic Mess In Nora's Mouth Brought Back Deceased Budgie". I think I love this hideous bullshit.
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