Friday, October 06, 2006
Peace On Earth, But No Goodwill To All Men
Well, as it's the season of Christmas near enough, at least in the local SPAR, I thought I give you an update on what I is up to. I's sworn off the male of the species now till the new year. I've not heard from that horror I almost fell for, he's not contacted me about the baby or anything.
All the more shame for him, I had my last scan a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to share it sooner, but I had to wait for Tyson to get a scanner off his friend at PC world at Culverhouse Cross. So, here is my little darling fella. He's a boy, that's right, they confirmed it. I is calling him Usher Bentley Bates. Tyson pimped him out for me.
I feel like a lump, my legs are all swollen and I can only drink two or three cans of the Carling before I feels like throwing up. I managed to give up the fags for a couple of days, but I figure what the hell - he can handle the withdrawl when he's on the maternity ward. By the time he leaves the ward he'll be over the nicotine. If one more woman at the Bingo tells me not to 'ave a fag whilst I'm playing, I will smack them out - they're doing my head in.
Tia's been good as gold, she built a nest in her bedroom for the baby, she thinks it's a Christmas present for her. She's been saving Pringles in a little plastic box to keep him fed. Love her. She got sent home from school again the other day for sitting on the other girls. I's better off keeping her home with me I think.
I hate men. I'm sorry, it's not just the lump talking, if one more bloke on MySpace offers to come arounds and give me a 'no-strings-attached' shag, I will chop the knob off the next one I sees. Hormones? Word! Back to it.
Posted by Chav Mum at 2:35 PM
2 Comments:
Chav mum site - any chance of getting a link to my site www.shit-faced.co.uk?
Gidday sweetheart,
With hand on heart and other hand protectively covering my knob, might I offer you a no strings-attached night out at the Ely restaurant of your choice? (The chippy in Grand Avenue works for me).
I'm an Australian, revisiting Cardiff after some years and you sound like you could use a night out with a decent bloke with a charming accent who will treat you like a lady. (I imagine your hand is one part of your body you've yet to have kissed?)
Over chips and an aggressive curry sauce, we can do whatever you wish -- discuss the Middle East situation, or fashion, just walk hand in hand or take a lengthy, in-depth look at the Australian dominance of British sport. (That one's probably my favourite).
So you if you fancy a night out with a refined, tanned, sporty blond Aussie, let's get together.
Be assured, sordid, full-on wild loving, enhanced by a variety of artificial stimulants and a few toys, is the furthest thing from my mind.
Cheers,
S Warne
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