Delivering an impolite message from Sludge

Saw a grumpy Sludge this afternoon at what must be Cowbridge's shabbiest residence. He took ages to answer the door and when he did appeared quite flustered. He explained I'd interrupted his viewing of Loose Women. "I was having a tug and was approaching the vinegar stroke when you knocked," he explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

His weekdays are identical. He's up at the crack of dawn to ready himself to pay tribute to GMTV's Susanna Reid, followed by further spurts during proceeding shows in honour of Lorraine Kelly, Holly Willoughby and any and all gargoyles who appear on Loose Women. "It's a wonder you had enough energy to turn the latch," I commented.

Amongst his many awful traits the one I find most annoying is his habit of slapping his bonce three times Ayatollah-style to indicate agreement or approval. It's beyond him to simply say yes, aye, or nod. To emphasise recognition he goes to another level as when Liverpool score a goal. Then he bashes his nut ten to the dozen while also breaking into a jig. A jihadi who just declared a fatwa on some poor b'stards couldn't be more excitable. Simple words can set him off. Knickers, and especially sweaty knickers, is enough for him to complain about dizziness afterwards.

I enquired why he hasn't posted on CCMB of late. "Oh, don't fecking bother," he replied with a deep exasperated sigh. "It's because the wifi signal strength keeps dying all the time," he continued. "I knew it could be a mistake to switch providers because it was great before. I've a good mind to go round and complain." "Go round where?" I asked. "To that daft old bat next door of course who told me the password she uses for everything internet related," he fumed.

"Shall I post a message there on your behalf?" I queried. "You can," he responded. "None of them like my youtube links to Barry Manilow [he paused to tap his head three times] tracks. Tell them they're a bunch of kents who can feck right off!"

Oh, yeah. Brilliant.

Was this funnier in your head

I do look forward to these reports , your reporting of him does bring him to life , although I've never met him I still have a vivid imaginary of him, thanks to your detaled life report's and descriptions.

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Originally Posted by Llandaff Blue

Was this funnier in your head

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When did you have your sense of humour bypass?

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Originally Posted by William Treseder

When did you have your sense of humour bypass?

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Around the same time you thought being racist was acceptable

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Originally Posted by Organ Morgan.

Saw a grumpy Sludge this afternoon at what must be Cowbridge's shabbiest residence. He took ages to answer the door and when he did appeared quite flustered. He explained I'd interrupted his viewing of Loose Women. "I was having a tug and was approaching the vinegar stroke when you knocked," he explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

His weekdays are identical. He's up at the crack of dawn to ready himself to pay tribute to GMTV's Susanna Reid, followed by further spurts during proceeding shows in honour of Lorraine Kelly, Holly Willoughby and any and all gargoyles who appear on Loose Women. "It's a wonder you had enough energy to turn the latch," I commented.

Amongst his many awful traits the one I find most annoying is his habit of slapping his bonce three times Ayatollah-style to indicate agreement or approval. It's beyond him to simply say yes, aye, or nod. To emphasise recognition he goes to another level as when Liverpool score a goal. Then he bashes his nut ten to the dozen while also breaking into a jig. A jihadi who just declared a fatwa on some poor b'stards couldn't be more excitable. Simple words can set him off. Knickers, and especially sweaty knickers, is enough for him to complain about dizziness afterwards.

I enquired why he hasn't posted on CCMB of late. "Oh, don't fecking bother," he replied with a deep exasperated sigh. "It's because the wifi signal strength keeps dying all the time," he continued. "I knew it could be a mistake to switch providers because it was great before. I've a good mind to go round and complain." "Go round where?" I asked. "To that daft old bat next door of course who told me the password she uses for everything internet related," he fumed.

"Shall I post a message there on your behalf?" I queried. "You can," he responded. "None of them like my youtube links to Barry Manilow [he paused to tap his head three times] tracks. Tell them they're a bunch of kents who can feck right off!"

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Hilarious.... :ohwell:

brilliant