Doctor Gary Dolittle...
Posted 26th May 2012 at 12:47 AM by Gary Compton
Okay it's Friday and its a family tradition to try and have an easy day and get on the drink as soon as possible.
So around 2Pm my fat arse landed on my seat at my garden table and 4 cans of lager magically appeared in front of me. The ball and chain was there, having a tab and doing a Gary impression by drinking my amber nectar.
It was really hot today and I took my top off. For a moment the birds fell silent and her indoors fell off her stool.
I used to be attractive. Now I'm not so sure.
Anyway, after me sitting there like a Hippopotamus at a photo shoot for a couple of hours. The wife, mother of my children; my best friend, and person in charge of my dress sense, decided to go shopping.
So quicker than Linford Christy on crack cocaine, she disappeared and I was left with the wildlife and my sleeping dogs.
A blackbird landed on a nearby chimney and started to sing a fantastic bird song. I was mesmorised and started to simulate its tune by whistling. Honest to God, more birds arrived and I don't mean the lasses from the Blyth lap dancing club. The feathered little furkers tweeted more than Piers Morgan.
Anyway as the birds flew above, I thought to myself, this is the life - sunshine - beer - nature and burger on chips in the shopping basket and shortly to be on me plate.
Suddenly, I felt moist. No I wasnt on a promise - one of those horrible black spuggies had sh*t on me!
I hate David Attenborough
So around 2Pm my fat arse landed on my seat at my garden table and 4 cans of lager magically appeared in front of me. The ball and chain was there, having a tab and doing a Gary impression by drinking my amber nectar.
It was really hot today and I took my top off. For a moment the birds fell silent and her indoors fell off her stool.
I used to be attractive. Now I'm not so sure.
Anyway, after me sitting there like a Hippopotamus at a photo shoot for a couple of hours. The wife, mother of my children; my best friend, and person in charge of my dress sense, decided to go shopping.
So quicker than Linford Christy on crack cocaine, she disappeared and I was left with the wildlife and my sleeping dogs.
A blackbird landed on a nearby chimney and started to sing a fantastic bird song. I was mesmorised and started to simulate its tune by whistling. Honest to God, more birds arrived and I don't mean the lasses from the Blyth lap dancing club. The feathered little furkers tweeted more than Piers Morgan.
Anyway as the birds flew above, I thought to myself, this is the life - sunshine - beer - nature and burger on chips in the shopping basket and shortly to be on me plate.
Suddenly, I felt moist. No I wasnt on a promise - one of those horrible black spuggies had sh*t on me!
I hate David Attenborough
Total Comments 2
Comments
-
Well, I'm sure all the Chrons ladies imagine you look like your avvie, Gary.
But all things aside, it can suck having a bird drop a B-bomb on your being.
Still not as bad as a snake doing it. Trust me, that one sucks. *shudder*Posted 26th May 2012 at 03:47 AM by Karn Maeshalanadae
-
A long time ago, when I had a beard, a seagull once s-bombed me through the beard and onto my shirt. Disgusting.
(So not a close shave....)Posted 26th May 2012 at 10:44 PM by Ursa major
