w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:
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"You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face - how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fcuk her?"

Alanis Morissette: "You oughtta know"
From the album: "Jagged Little Pill"

You need to read yesterday's post for this one to make any sense

So I wasn't disappointed. Well, I was, but I wasn't. Not even a kiss-my-ar5e goodbye.

Number One Son got home first among us, hoping (against hope) that there would be a box of chocs for Mrs.D, or some flowers, or even a dyslexically-scrawled note to say "thanks for giving me a roof and bed for 6+ weeks."

But no. NOS was, as they say, incandescent with rage. And, his moral compass being very like mine, guilty about having brought the spongeing sack of sh1te into our home in the first place.

He was somewhat calmed by Mrs. D, entreating him not to beat himself up about it. But then he 'phoned the w@nk3r and, in apparently very constrained tones, 'let him have both barrels'.

The useless cnut's duvet and (unwashed) cover are now in a bin liner in the garage, where they will fester until either they're collected (they'll be left outside for pickup - the lazy fcuker is not stepping inside my home ever again) or warmer weather makes the area too unsavoury and they go for landfill.

As a 'chef' we never once had a meal cooked for us, or a bottle of red left to repay what he'd drunk of ours (given, not taken, admittedly) or, evidently, a free thankyou.

And any belief the to55er had that he'd be re-locating with NOS and his mates when they decamp to their own place, have been very clearly destroyed. When you pi55 in someone's face, don't expect them to say thankyou.

Serves the spineless b@st@rd right.

Season of goodwill? He can go fcuk himself.

Grrrr..