Got the bastards!
They’re caught in a nut,
they can’t swim out,
because I don’t want any more babies…
I’ve got the all-clear letter framed and hung above the bed.
Swimming against the tide
You would have thought that two vasectomies would be enough to stop the little buggers getting through, but no. The first set of tests have come back positive for (frankly quite impressive) swimmers. I’m shortly going to be cracking off with what will be my 10th test since I started this whole thing, and I’m starting to get worried. My palms are all hairy and I now fancy plastic sample pots. Looks like a 3rd vasectomy could be on the cards…
I have a dream
Mine wasn’t as noble as MLK’s. I dreamed I was sleeping with Bruce Forsythe for his money. It was horrible. He was all wrinkly and smelt of gin.
The ways of the Jedi
Got Wibs Star Wars Lego for the PS2 and we had a 2 player game before one
of the controllers broke.
Wibs: “Daddy – why did you kill Jar Jar Binks?”
Me: “Sorry, it was an accident”
Wibs: “Daddy – don’t kill Jar Jar Binks”
Me: “Sorry Wibs, I mistook him for someone else”
Wibs: “Daddy – stop killing Jar Jar Binks”
Me: “Sorry Wibs, my finger slipped”
Wibs: “DADDY! STOP KILLING JAR JAR BINKS”
Me: “Oh go on. Just once more”
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a dustbin?
It’s my new bike. Behold:
She is a mixture of Taliban (wheels, front brakes, gears), Jedward (seat, pedals, mudguard, handlebars) and the skip-rescue bike, which I called Black Death. In order to commemorate the unholy union of 3 shitty bikes, her name is Jelideath. Let her name ring down through the ages whenever a shit bicycle is mentioned.