Everyday I listen to the same stories, moans, groans and pointless ramblings. I stand transfixed as I glaze over listening to odd view this village has of itself, don't these people know that I have ADS and an aversion listening to crap about what house is for sale and how much its on for, not worth it , he tried to sell last year couldn't shift it now he's spent a fortune doing it up , 10k on the front alone, Wheres he going? no idea I say but I do . Still all good for us in the village puts the prices up for us all, keep the place special. Aren't we lucky, of course you're lucky you're living rent free in the almshouse all paid for by me and my Mrs. Fuck me how far up you're own arse can you get in this village.
8.43am in she slides the Lady Dowager herself, landlords wife, proud member of the ruling class, penny pinching and sour old puss. Proud to clip the coupons to save a penny or two. Each month she waits by her door for the bank statement to arrive, excited, almost wet at the thought of the balance on her account she and her husband have accumulated over the years, a penny here a penny there, a good deal here, screw someone there. A favour done, a debt collected with interest of course, don't buy the best buy the cheapest, don't repair make do, lie cheat twist and turn make the bastards squirm. Switching the sherry in the bottles at the parish council Christmas party to the crap stuff saves her another few pennies to roll around in naked when they turn into pounds and the bank statement arrives.
She hands me a £5 note for her 50p Daily Mail, fuck me a note she must be heart broken to see her blue friend leave the warmth of her purse.
The veg man arrives as she slithers out the door muttering nothing clutching her purse tightly, a black or a Albanian might be lurking in the laurel bushes getting ready to pounce on her £4.50. They do that you know, it said so in the Daily Mail last Tuesday.
Veg is fresh and a joy to unpack, smelling of the fields and still wet with morning dew. Its journey has been long and the mornings have been early , some poor bastard drove to market today at 1am just for so ungrateful bastard to prod and tell me cabbage is cheaper in Aldi. Of course its fucking cheaper but its not on your doorstep.
My poor old lost soul comes in, hair all wild eyes bulging boney cheeks shinning, more bloody tea bags , thats 160 this week if I'd allowed her, another pint of milk , two tomatoes and a small bar of chocolate, if she asks me one more time where the bread is I'll scream. Old-timers disease has got her but she loves it, wandering around the village mad as a box of frogs . I'd love to know what she does with all the stuff she buys , everyday the same thing no more than £3
but it gets her out the house , bless her.
Fucking walkers come in with muddy boots and snot dripping off their noses, thanks alot mud and snot to wipe up after they've gone. Stop gawping at my fresh cheesecake , pies and bread pudding, stop telling me how wonderful my shops is for gods sake stop telling me you're having lunch in the pub and not here. Buy something , christ knows you've dripped enough snot about the place, and for fuck sakes can you ask your friend to pull the Titanic of a bogey out of her nose before it drops on my cupcakes.
The butcher arrives, looks at me with that poor bastard look and leaves me alone again with mud, snot and a fucking bogey the size of Berlin on my marble topped counter.
Why oh why did I do this ?
Here he comes I can see him crossing the street, flat cap on his head, polyester track pants stained and worn , the warden from the almshouses, landlords little bitch. Thinks he has the right to touch every piece of fruit and veg and buy nothing. Fuck off I scream in my head as I welcome him with a smile when he enters MY shop. Fuck off to Morrisons and touch the fruit and veg, do you have a hard on for the feel of brassica does an apple do it for you, coz I doubt your Mrs has done anything for you for a long time.
I sell him his wifes magazine and wish him the best day ahead while screaming fuck off in my head .
The landlord skuttles by , speeding up as he walks past the shop, head down in shame, thinks he's the Mayor of the village. Ive seen him standing on his balcony surveying the village from his vantage point like the wanker he really is, what a prick
He's gone and Im settling down for a cuppa at the counter, out of the corner of my eye I see another fucking bogey hanging off the fluffy pink icing of one of Tinkerbells fairy cakes, fuck it I'll sell it anyway.
Saturday 27 November 2010
Tuesday 2 November 2010
Canker
I have declared today Cancer day,or canker as I call it, counted 7 cases of canker today, what is it with these people, unless its canker it ain't worth having. If you joined up all the diseased areas every part of the body would be attacked by canker. What is it with this village? I fear for my life living and working here , is it the pylons or the water or is it just pay back for being so selfish and self obsessed. We got canker of the brain, lung, cock, tongue. Its in his balls , her skin and his too. One breast then the next, this gland and that gland riddled with it when they opened her up. From top to bottom but not as bad as my Bill when he had it.
I feel left out , no badge, I haven't lived until I've had the canker. Im crossing my fingers that I don't catch it from one of this lot. Bloody hell, all I wanted to do was sell nice cheese not end up with the big C
8 am. first canker today is a straight forward case of lungs , this is a new case so I've got a few months to go of this one. Then its an update on a little growth on the back that the Dr wants to have off on account of the history of skin canker. Only a week, never mind as long as we all keep our spirits up. Double breast on Thursday with a reconstruction Friday, soon be good as new, I thought they'd got the lot last time, sad its come back so quick.
Listening by the till, oh that's nothing mate , I had canker of the knob, went in to the GP on the Monday slicing my old boy open by the Wednesday , Oh it don't stop there mate, spread to me tongue. I wonder how that happened ?
Bit of a break , time for a cuppa tea and draw breath before brain tumour comes in for a slice of ham not too thick mind , got no pork and apple sausages ? Not today, got Sage. No fuck it. Sorry about your brain.
No more for a few hours, maybe I should put on a white coat and start charging. By midday Im bloody depressed , I look at all the moles on my arms watching for changes. Feel my balls just in case, nothing thank goodness. Men my age can be riddled with the stuff, thank fuck smoked, drank and ate shit all my life .
"Gotanybacca?" plenty for you mate !
I feel left out , no badge, I haven't lived until I've had the canker. Im crossing my fingers that I don't catch it from one of this lot. Bloody hell, all I wanted to do was sell nice cheese not end up with the big C
8 am. first canker today is a straight forward case of lungs , this is a new case so I've got a few months to go of this one. Then its an update on a little growth on the back that the Dr wants to have off on account of the history of skin canker. Only a week, never mind as long as we all keep our spirits up. Double breast on Thursday with a reconstruction Friday, soon be good as new, I thought they'd got the lot last time, sad its come back so quick.
Listening by the till, oh that's nothing mate , I had canker of the knob, went in to the GP on the Monday slicing my old boy open by the Wednesday , Oh it don't stop there mate, spread to me tongue. I wonder how that happened ?
Bit of a break , time for a cuppa tea and draw breath before brain tumour comes in for a slice of ham not too thick mind , got no pork and apple sausages ? Not today, got Sage. No fuck it. Sorry about your brain.
No more for a few hours, maybe I should put on a white coat and start charging. By midday Im bloody depressed , I look at all the moles on my arms watching for changes. Feel my balls just in case, nothing thank goodness. Men my age can be riddled with the stuff, thank fuck smoked, drank and ate shit all my life .
"Gotanybacca?" plenty for you mate !
Monday 1 November 2010
Monday is the hardest word
Today is Monday , November 1st , outside its cold, damp and a little dark. My mood is a little dark and a bit damp. Halloween is over and I've still got a bloody pumpkin in my window the size of Pluto. With the passing of Halloween the bastard thing is now uglier than before, its not even orange its a beige colour and looks like something from a 1950's Sci Fi horror movie that any moment is going to hatch into a brain sucking alien. Amazing how past it everything looks one minute after midnight.
Im bloody cold, need to stop eating or Im going to end up fat, diabetic walking with a stick. If I end up having to where polar fleece and jog pants somebody shoot me.
Door opens , no bell yet, in comes the nice old man that lives in the village caring for his wife of a lifetime. Nice man calls me babe , I assume because he spends all day by his wifes bedside and calls her babe , Im not even here to him he's thinking of his wife. A loaf of bread, some spuds and an extra butter just in case. His daughters over for lunch, she's not fond of sprouts so no need for any today. Nice man, a cook, a Captain and now a carer,happy to sit by his beloved wife all day long in front of the fire holding her hand. He tells me he had a funny turn last Thursday, worry all over his face. Just like my grandad.
A delivery arrives so off he goes, "see you babe", I watch him walk up the street careful to cross the road. Good lad see you tomorrow.
Busy day for a Monday, regulars gone, thank fuck. No school kids today still half term, shame , I'm missing my yummy mums
Can someone please tell me why the fuck every time I put the cheese away someone comes in and asks for a cheese roll. And why when the ham is sat on the slicer they always want cheese. I throw half a tomato away and the next customers wants tomato , i got cucumber they want tomato. And before you say it even when I prepare and have lots of everything sliced up ready to go no one wants anything .
2pm and its starting to get slow, soon it'll be dark my first winters evening, will I suffer from light depravation, by March will I have big nocturnal eyes and translucent skin , probably not.
Today feels like Im a kid again off school while everyone is at work, silent .
Postman arrives 2 bills and a cheque book, how poetic is that?
Im bloody cold, need to stop eating or Im going to end up fat, diabetic walking with a stick. If I end up having to where polar fleece and jog pants somebody shoot me.
Door opens , no bell yet, in comes the nice old man that lives in the village caring for his wife of a lifetime. Nice man calls me babe , I assume because he spends all day by his wifes bedside and calls her babe , Im not even here to him he's thinking of his wife. A loaf of bread, some spuds and an extra butter just in case. His daughters over for lunch, she's not fond of sprouts so no need for any today. Nice man, a cook, a Captain and now a carer,happy to sit by his beloved wife all day long in front of the fire holding her hand. He tells me he had a funny turn last Thursday, worry all over his face. Just like my grandad.
A delivery arrives so off he goes, "see you babe", I watch him walk up the street careful to cross the road. Good lad see you tomorrow.
Busy day for a Monday, regulars gone, thank fuck. No school kids today still half term, shame , I'm missing my yummy mums
Can someone please tell me why the fuck every time I put the cheese away someone comes in and asks for a cheese roll. And why when the ham is sat on the slicer they always want cheese. I throw half a tomato away and the next customers wants tomato , i got cucumber they want tomato. And before you say it even when I prepare and have lots of everything sliced up ready to go no one wants anything .
2pm and its starting to get slow, soon it'll be dark my first winters evening, will I suffer from light depravation, by March will I have big nocturnal eyes and translucent skin , probably not.
Today feels like Im a kid again off school while everyone is at work, silent .
Postman arrives 2 bills and a cheque book, how poetic is that?
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