I've got loads I could be doing today. There's the lawns to mow, the bins to put out, clothes to iron for the week ahead. Not to mention getting my own lazy arse out of my dressing gown and through the shower. But I'm definitely in one of my "I can't be fucking arsed" frames of mind. The lawns will still be there tomorrow, the bins I can just do at some point, I only really need to iron one shirt and press a pair of trousers.
I think I'm going to have to resign myself to having a shower, at least, but the Rugby's just come on, so I might have to watch this for an hour first. I can't even be bothered to go and buy a Sunday paper, I watched the news earlier and it was all just more hand-wringing bollocks from the hypocritical do-gooders who are about to force prohibition on the populace of the UK.
I'm going to go and have a few pints of cider and watch the golf at the pub, I think, before Jacqui Smith decides to make it a criminal offence to do so.
I think I'm going to have to resign myself to having a shower, at least, but the Rugby's just come on, so I might have to watch this for an hour first. I can't even be bothered to go and buy a Sunday paper, I watched the news earlier and it was all just more hand-wringing bollocks from the hypocritical do-gooders who are about to force prohibition on the populace of the UK.
I'm going to go and have a few pints of cider and watch the golf at the pub, I think, before Jacqui Smith decides to make it a criminal offence to do so.
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