Suicidal Samaritans caller was urged "to get on with it"

Wish I hadn't visited Sludge this morning as it was an even more depressing experience than usual. He opened the front door with an expression which in comparison would make a chief mourner at a funeral appear happy-go-lucky. I hadn't seen such despair on his chops since his leccy packed in for a day which ruined his substantial stock of frozen kebab meat and Chicken McNuggets.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is your freezer on the blink, have the neighbours discovered you're hacking their wi-fi signal for free, is Nelly next door reporting you for swiping her bloomers from the washing line?"

Those questions were met with silence other than a disconsolate sigh. He eventually opened up: "a bent ref, it was never a sending off, and a 5-0 thrashing at the Etihad yesterday is what's wrong," he groaned.

He then described how in the space of two hours his mood changed from one of hope and excited anticipation to that of utter desolation that prompted him to phone the Samaritans.

"I went through my familiar prematch routine before turning on Sky Sports," he explained. That consisted of him shedding his string vest and tracksuit bottoms to slip into Liverpool's full kit before arranging a selection of photos of Scouse icons (Bill Shankly, Nerys Hughes, Kenny Dalglish, Jimmy Tarbuck, Steve Highway and Stan Boardman) along the mantelpiece to "bring the lads some superstitious good luck."

He then stretched out on the chaise longue with a litre of Matinelle Chardonnay (£1.49 a bottle at all good stockists) and a pack of chocolate Hobnobs to bear witness in comfort to what he believed would be Man City's humiliation.

"I felt crushed and shell-shocked by the game's end," he confided, adding that he hadn't felt so low since Theresa May failed to achieve an overall majority at the General Election. "I got on the blower to the Samaritans. They were engaged for ages but I eventually got through and spoke to a delightful young lady about my suicidal thoughts. So seductive was her voice I quickly forgot the result and begun asking her some personal questions."

"What happened?" I enquired. "She slammed the phone down after telling me to get on with it," he fumed. "Did she give you any other advice?" I asked. "Yes," he said, "directly after I made a polite enquiry regarding her chest measurements she told me to feck off and die."

For any animal lovers reading this, Throbbing Gristle - his LFC collar wearing dog - looked equally glum.

:hehe: I love these

What a complete rotter that man is.

:hehe:

Oh that Sludge. :ohwell:

Grow up organ

Quote:

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Originally Posted by SLUDGE FACTORY

Grow up organ

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:hehe:

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