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Thursday, 12 November 2009

TIS A PITY HE IS A POODLE

Piti the poodle has been silenced. We think Mercedes, his owner has drugged him ( no RSPCA here folks). I'm trying to avoid all of them as last night I came home to find the Borracho de Mierda, AKA ' The Effing Bleeder' trying to get into his flat which involved me trying to get into my flat in a style that wouldn't go amiss in downtown Kabul. While trying to get the key into the door he kept muttering 'cabrona' under his breath because he realised his wife was in but wouldn't open the door for him.The lights in the hallway kept going off so I switched them on but he wasn't expecting this and he found himself facing the wrong way in his doorway wearing a stupified look wondering where the hell his house had gone. When he saw me he said 'vaya!' like they do in the advert for La Tienda en Casa and then fell over. I wish I didn't have this effect on men.

My interest in Big Fat Gitano hasn't stopped and I normally find him sandwiched in a doorway but today he managed to sandwich a sofa instead. With the rest of the clan there was another strange looking piece of furniture which they parked in the road and before long a traffic jam built up with lots of apoplectic Spaniards too scared to start having a go.

Talking of salvaged furniture, my friend's son Jorge is reading Adrian Mole and there are characters in this book who go to the dump or skip to get 'new' furniture and others, namely Adrian's mum and dad who have children with other partners. I asked Jorge if he knew anyone at school who was going through the same shit as Adrian and he told me he had never heard of anything so mental as having children with someone other than your wife or husband and as for furniture everyone bought theirs in shops. Such a sheltered life.

I tried to get the kids to do a minute silence and of course it was impossible and when I told them millions of people in Britain managed to do it yesterday they looked on in awe. They seem to pride themselves that they talk for the sake of it and were very impressed with my story but then they were equally impressed when I told them about Guido Fawkes and his attempts to blow up Parliament. On Bonfire Night Diane Abbott MP confessed that if Peter Mandelson became Prime Minister she would blow up the place. Probably as bad as my mum threatening a while back never to vote Labour again if 'that man (Gordon Brown) becomes Prime Minister'. Well he is and looks like she is left with little choice and I have become what I thought I would never admit to being, no not a Tory, but a floating voter. The words 'now you're *ucked ' mean everything and nothing to me anymore as I live here now and can't vote in this country. So I shall float on down the river on a Sunday afternoon.

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