Sludge's new fiancée (another fat slag)

[Organ Morgan.]

Visited him this morning at his Cowbridge den. With Liverpool playing attractive, winning stuff I wanted to avoid talking about football because I knew he would boast non stop.

I'd interrupted him lovingly arranging his favourite music CDs in alphabetical order. I had a quick glance through them, and from Astley, Rick to Blobby, Mr right through to Zappa, Frank the collection was utter shite.

Without a word, he removed a photo from his wallet to hand to me. "She was in Emmerdale years ago. Mandy Dingle was her name, wasn't it?" I asked as I passed it back. He grinned and appeared flattered. "No," he replied, "her name's Emma, my new fiancée."

He's been engaged more times than Delboy Trotter. All of them would soften the most Viagra-induced boner in an instant, yet they were "babes" in his estimation. He's known her for three weeks, she's 35-years-old, unmarried with five kids. They met in Bridgend's B & M store where he espied her nicking e-fag liquids, pork scratchings and a knockwurst sausage. "Classy," I commented, but the sarcasm didn't register.

Without any prompting he took it upon himself to relate the sordid details of their first tryst which begun in the back of his jalopy 15 minutes later. As this is the Lord's day and a family orientated site I can't repeat any of his crude monologue other than to say that the aforementioned sausage featured heavily.

Throbbing Gristle, his sex-starved hound, spent his time chewing a leg of the settee. He stopped briefly when a knock was heard at the door. It was the elderly lady with a pronounced limp and wonky eye from the flat below asking for some spare sugar. Sludge gave her some but stressed he would want something in return. She wearily agreed before leaving.

He made a comment about having to change into a cleaner vest then smirked. "You wouldn't, would you?" I asked disbelievingly. "Not only would I, I already have several times before," he replied whilst eagerly rubbing his hands together.

On a Sunday too. What an irreligious rotter that fella is!

[Thoth]

[CardiffIrish2]

Visited him this morning at his Cowbridge den. With Liverpool playing attractive, winning stuff I wanted to avoid talking about football because I knew he would boast non stop.

I'd interrupted him lovingly arranging his favourite music CDs in alphabetical order. I had a quick glance through them, and from Astley, Rick to Blobby, Mr right through to Zappa, Frank the collection was utter shite.

Without a word, he removed a photo from his wallet to hand to me. "She was in Emmerdale years ago. Mandy Dingle was her name, wasn't it?" I asked as I passed it back. He grinned and appeared flattered. "No," he replied, "her name's Emma, my new fiancée."

He's been engaged more times than Delboy Trotter. All of them would soften the most Viagra-induced boner in an instant, yet they were "babes" in his estimation. He's known her for three weeks, she's 35-years-old, unmarried with five kids. They met in Bridgend's B & M store where he espied her nicking e-fag liquids, pork scratchings and a knockwurst sausage. "Classy," I commented, but the sarcasm didn't register.

Without any prompting he took it upon himself to relate the sordid details of their first tryst which begun in the back of his jalopy 15 minutes later. As this is the Lord's day and a family orientated site I can't repeat any of his crude monologue other than to say that the aforementioned sausage featured heavily.

Throbbing Gristle, his sex-starved hound, spent his time chewing a leg of the settee. He stopped briefly when a knock was heard at the door. It was the elderly lady with a pronounced limp and wonky eye from the flat below asking for some spare sugar. Sludge gave her some but stressed he would want something in return. She wearily agreed before leaving.

He made a comment about having to change into a cleaner vest then smirked. "You wouldn't, would you?" I asked disbelievingly. "Not only would I, I already have several times before," he replied whilst eagerly rubbing his hands together.

On a Sunday too. What an irreligious rotter that fella is!

I hope the end of the world you predict doesn't happen, it's a far better place with posts like this 😂😂😂😂

[MacAdder]

Visited him this morning at his Cowbridge den. With Liverpool playing attractive, winning stuff I wanted to avoid talking about football because I knew he would boast non stop.

I'd interrupted him lovingly arranging his favourite music CDs in alphabetical order. I had a quick glance through them, and from Astley, Rick to Blobby, Mr right through to Zappa, Frank the collection was utter shite.

Without a word, he removed a photo from his wallet to hand to me. "She was in Emmerdale years ago. Mandy Dingle was her name, wasn't it?" I asked as I passed it back. He grinned and appeared flattered. "No," he replied, "her name's Emma, my new fiancée."

He's been engaged more times than Delboy Trotter. All of them would soften the most Viagra-induced boner in an instant, yet they were "babes" in his estimation. He's known her for three weeks, she's 35-years-old, unmarried with five kids. They met in Bridgend's B & M store where he espied her nicking e-fag liquids, pork scratchings and a knockwurst sausage. "Classy," I commented, but the sarcasm didn't register.

Without any prompting he took it upon himself to relate the sordid details of their first tryst which begun in the back of his jalopy 15 minutes later. As this is the Lord's day and a family orientated site I can't repeat any of his crude monologue other than to say that the aforementioned sausage featured heavily.

Throbbing Gristle, his sex-starved hound, spent his time chewing a leg of the settee. He stopped briefly when a knock was heard at the door. It was the elderly lady with a pronounced limp and wonky eye from the flat below asking for some spare sugar. Sludge gave her some but stressed he would want something in return. She wearily agreed before leaving.

He made a comment about having to change into a cleaner vest then smirked. "You wouldn't, would you?" I asked disbelievingly. "Not only would I, I already have several times before," he replied whilst eagerly rubbing his hands together.

On a Sunday too. What an irreligious rotter that fella is!

WHAT a rotter!

[Dr Lecter]

Visited him this morning at his Cowbridge den. With Liverpool playing attractive, winning stuff I wanted to avoid talking about football because I knew he would boast non stop.

I'd interrupted him lovingly arranging his favourite music CDs in alphabetical order. I had a quick glance through them, and from Astley, Rick to Blobby, Mr right through to Zappa, Frank the collection was utter shite.

Without a word, he removed a photo from his wallet to hand to me. "She was in Emmerdale years ago. Mandy Dingle was her name, wasn't it?" I asked as I passed it back. He grinned and appeared flattered. "No," he replied, "her name's Emma, my new fiancée."

He's been engaged more times than Delboy Trotter. All of them would soften the most Viagra-induced boner in an instant, yet they were "babes" in his estimation. He's known her for three weeks, she's 35-years-old, unmarried with five kids. They met in Bridgend's B & M store where he espied her nicking e-fag liquids, pork scratchings and a knockwurst sausage. "Classy," I commented, but the sarcasm didn't register.

Without any prompting he took it upon himself to relate the sordid details of their first tryst which begun in the back of his jalopy 15 minutes later. As this is the Lord's day and a family orientated site I can't repeat any of his crude monologue other than to say that the aforementioned sausage featured heavily.

Throbbing Gristle, his sex-starved hound, spent his time chewing a leg of the settee. He stopped briefly when a knock was heard at the door. It was the elderly lady with a pronounced limp and wonky eye from the flat below asking for some spare sugar. Sludge gave her some but stressed he would want something in return. She wearily agreed before leaving.

He made a comment about having to change into a cleaner vest then smirked. "You wouldn't, would you?" I asked disbelievingly. "Not only would I, I already have several times before," he replied whilst eagerly rubbing his hands together.

On a Sunday too. What an irreligious rotter that fella is!

What a slanderous inaccurate character assassination.

I'm pretty sure he's got a few decent albums in his collection.