Ok, I fucking hate cats

OK, I am in Wellington, I have helped moved Mr Hill formerly of Upper Hutt and now of Featherston.

Murray has two cats, and though he loves them to bits, bits is how I would like them to be. Sorry, Murray, but I really do not like cats even if they are yours.

Anyway, my friend Andrea has a guard Ram. The walking potential freezer victim lies in wait for cars to arrive and then ambushes the unsuspecting caller. He likes to charge them and give them a right good head-butting…I think it is to subdue them so he can fuck their brains out. I have hurt my hand punching the Devil Ram right between the fucking eyes. I’ve gotta get me a sharp knife…Mmmm….mountain oysters.

I met a guy at the local at Paraparaumu or Pram as everyone who is not dome government lickspittle, PC, felching, onanist would say. His name is Geoffrey. This guy is fucking hard case. He sits outside the pub and introduces himself and the other patrons as new ones arrive…he actually thinks he owns the place. he doesn’t but he is an asset the the place. Last night he was stirring the Comet watcher.

On that some mad Scottish bint was complaining about the cold, as we sat there in our shorts and t-shirts. She’s from Scotland where I’m told Aberdeen is gaelic for Hypo-thermia. Stupid cow…and I told her so.

On my drive down i had dinner at Burger King Turangi, that is after waiting for fucking eva in the the fucking shortest queue know to man. After i remonstrated with the manager the service just got worse. I suppose calling her a fucking useless cow wouldn’t have helped.

My road trip video will be released when I return.

Now, back to my book and some sleeping.

 


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