You know you're heading for trouble when the kids start a conversation with the opening gambit "Dad? Am I allowed to swear?"
For the record, the answer is usually "no", but for once, I relented.
"Dad?" asked Scaryduck Junior, "Am I allowed to swear?"
"Well, you know how girl dogs are called bitches..."
"Yes. Yes they are, and I can see exactly where this is heading."
"Does that mean boy dogs are called bastards?"
I can't imagine where he gets it from.
Hussssss! It's the Thursday vote-o!
Ye Gods, it's Thursday again, and finding myself lacking any kind of motivation whatsoever, this week I steal all this week's vote-o quote-os from a list of supposedly genuine entries in the Queen Mother Condolence Book. Choose then, for tomorrow's Friday Tale of Mirth and Woe, from the following:
Conk: "No matter how she felt, no matter the situation, she always wore a smile. Just like a retard"
Road Rage: "How refreshing to be able to mourn the death of a member of the Royal family without being accused of being homosexual"
Kendo's Barbie of Woe: "I remember she came to visit us in the East End one time. She was so kind, so generous and so sweet. She whispered softly in my ear, 'You know it's not true' she said, 'you don't smell of shit'. She was a wondrous person".
Stripper: "I have been unable to masturbate for five days, and will not do so again until Her Majesty is buried"
The full, sorry list can be found here. The management accepts no responsibility, etc...
Your reward: this.