The story continues...

Another month/week/day and I am still unable to suffer fools. Which brings me to the trowt. Wow, she has been busy over these past months. Time for some well-earned catch-up.

Let’s jump straight in shall we? She is having 3 weeks off soon. Wow, is it a holiday? After all, the stupid cow needs a break, not just from us but from society in general; give the public a fucking break. Nah, not a holiday. After a long day of fucking other women, Sue’s husband (Who is the Farnborough equivalent of Tiger Woods) sat up in bed and watched his irritating, short, mullet sporting cunt of a wife strip off for bed. And must of made a flippant remark about having fucked a better body earlier that day. She of course took this to heart, so much so in fact she is spending near £6000 on getting the stomach taken care of. Yup, that wasn’t a typo, I did say £6000. Well after all, the stupid mare has about 250K in the fucking bank, yet still has the nerve, cheek and neck to moan about Asda prices and still goes to Aldi for the weekly shop.

She is getting this cosmetic surgery at our expense. The boss, who is as useful and clued up as he is svelte and charming, decided to grant her 3 fucking weeks off work for this procedure. Fuck the staff; fuck the fact we will have to work harder to compensate for the staff shortage. As long as Sue can rest for 3 weeks. She even admitted that the 3rd week she can’t come into work because she can’t drive. When we pointed out that her husband could bring her in, she reacted the same way you would react if asked which of your children must die. Bare in mind that her cunt of a husband brings her in to work in her car 3 out of 5 days a week yet that week, mysteriously cannot bring her into work. Selfish fucking cunts.

To be fair, the thought of 3 weeks of a Sue free workplace makes my testicles swell.

Next up, on Friday, Dave couldn’t bring me into work, since he was on leave. So I got the bus into work. Beats playing Russian roulette in Sues car. Will she be driving? Will her womanising husband be driving? Will her smug fuck son be in the passenger seat? All of these things I can do without first thing in the morning thanks. So I got the bus. However, im a lazy fuck, so I asked her to take me home. No problem she said, however, “I need to make a quick stop on the way home”. When I hear those words, my blood runs cold, then red hot with fucking anger. Especially when she told me the reason.

It’s her daughter’s birthday the following week, so here’s the plan. Her cunt of a husband driver HER car to work, picks us up. Sue swaps places and drives the miserable fucker to BEA in Farnborough. Why? Because he is going to hire a car. Wait, doesn’t he have a 50k BMW sitting in his driveway? Fuck off, I never said ANY of this would make sense. This is a guy who has finally admitted he won’t drive his BMW in case it gets dirty.

Anyway, she drives him to BEA, 10/15 minutes from work and 5/10 minutes from my house. Then do a 180 and drive in the opposite direction which her destination is 4 minutes from work, right where we started. Then she has to park up in the multi story, go into Clinton cards to buy some shit and then, only then, take me home. Total journey time, allocating time for Sues mouth, time taken for her to find a parking space, park up, walk to the shop, chat to the staff, spend ages decided whether to buy something and could she get it cheaper elsewhere etc. About an hour.

I got the bus home.

Polish that fucking beemer!

I thought I would give you all an update to the Trowt situation. Simply because, its getting on my tits and I need to vent about it.

Firstly, the old bint has been bleating on about her new BMW for months now, and this week she finally got it. It’s a BMW 1 Series. Not to mention the custom plates she is soon to get. S100 TRO. No, I can’t work that out either. However, a few alterations with a pen would make it, SLag TRO. If you get me. And knowing the filthy knickered Trowt the Beamer would have to be a bargain. I can imagine them in the showroom, Sue’s cunt of a husband sidles up to the salesman and whispers in his ear, “If you don’t give me a serious discount, i will lock you in a room with my wife”. Using that logic the car would be free and in fact the salesman would be paying off Sue in monthly installments.

She gets said car last Thursday, 22nd Apr. I remember that day well, since I was laughing so hard at the stupidity of the situation. Firstly, I need to explain her husband a bit more. I’ve gone over him in detail before, but just to clarify. He is just as tight as the Trowt, if not more so. Unless it’s for himself of course. Leaving his BMW in the garage 24/7 is sure to keep its value and make purchase worth it. The car is only ever dusted off for special occasions. Royal visits etc.

He now knows that Sue has a new BMW, so why the fuck should he get his out? Just fob her off with excuses and drop her off at work. Job done. It’s almost too easy. I can see through his bullshit a mile off, yet sue seems unaware.

The first day she got the fucking car she drove it in, only to get out and swap seats with the cunty husband so he can drive it home. Why? Because it needed custom plates and he was sorting that out*.

*Bullshit

It also gave him an excuse to roll up outside her workplace at 2pm ready to collect her. He didn’t park outside the gate, oh no. He parked right up the end of this road adjacent to it. In fact you could barely see him. But soon as sues mullet came into view, he drove up, slowly. Allowing everyone to gaze in awe at his new BMW. I was expecting Ode to joy to be playing, with doves being released at 10 meter intervals and to finish, a pyrotechnics masterpiece.
Army officers staring, open mouthed, erections a plenty, women lying flat on the floor, allowing sue to walk over them to the car as it pulled up and the colonel opening the passenger door for Sue. “There you go ma ‘lady. Sure is a fine vehicle you got there”. ” I know”, mutters the husband, with a smug fuck face which only a Troughton can pull off.

That’s only day one.

The next day she turned up with the car and no husband. Finally I thought, she put her foot down. She has no problem in whining like a bitch at work if everyone is given a paperclip and she is missed out. But seems to allow her family to shit and piss all over her.

The day went with its usual overdose of Sue and come home time, she leapt into her new BMW and drove off into the sunset. But we noticed something, no custom plates. How odd, so the next day I asked her. Turns out the paperwork is being sorted, which anyone who has had custom plates before knew (the cunt of a husband). So begs the question, if he knew this, why lie to his lady wife just to use her car for the day and not his? 2 reasons mainly. He is either so fucking tight and protective of his baby, he would lie to his own wife to use her car and not his. 2, He is having an affair. I like to go for both.

The next day she is dropped off again. Fucking mug. Upon questioning, the reason is so ludicrous, so outrageous, that if I think about it for too long, blood starts shooting out of my fucking ears and the right hemisphere of the brain turns to the left and says “fuck it, I’m out “.

Ready?

Sure?

Because she parked her car under a tree which drops sticky sappy leaves and branches on her precious Beamer and he has to take it to be cleaned. CLEANED!!

Holy shit, that alone is enough for any person. However it got even worse the next day. She was dropped off once more and the excuse this time? Go on, guess. You fucking won’t ever get it.

She parked under the same tree, causing the same problem and he husband has to get it cleaned again.

Where does she park to get jizzed over by a disgruntled tree? And what sort of damage is caused by said tree to the render the car drivable only by the husband? It’s the fact Sue blindly goes along with the excuses which fucks me off. Even if the story was true, that there exists a tree hell-bent on ruining Sue’s precious BMW, its sap. Not battery acid or bird shit. And even if it was, why not get it cleaned after or before work? It’s nonsense, just fucking drivel. And she laps it up like a cat licking its bollocks.

That’s it, I’ve had enough. Truly. I can’t figure her or her fucked up family out. It’s all become too much.

Ciao

You spin me right round bitch, right round.

Here’s what happened on Monday.
In she comes and ready for a fight. What’s annoyed her? Prices gone up at Asda? Or her husband failed to honour her monthly fingering?
Nope, her washing machine repair man cannot fix her machine that day but must wait for parts. Wow. RED ALERT, bring back the fucking troops, Trowton’s washing machine (which might I add has not only to put up with her dirty draws but her daughters G-strings, her sons cologne soaked boxers and her husband’s banana hammocks) is fucked! This machine gets more of a pounding than a back alley prostitute.

So how does Sue repay her machine for the years of abuse? Well by punching the fuck out of it of course. I’m not joking, she actually smacks the washing machine. Why? I’m not so sure, but she broke some of the buttons on the front. This caused the previously mentioned washing machine problems. Wow, if only she had something to stop her smashing the holy shit out of the machine, then she wouldn’t need to fork out cash to get it repaired and melt my fucking ears off for 6 hours gobbing off about it all. How about A BRAIN!?

Rather than pay for an independent company to fix her machine, Sue takes a different approach. To reinstate her cover plan with Hotpoint. Which ran out. This will cost her £140 for a year, and she paid it. SHE PAID IT. Someone who will beat her own mother over the head with the nearest blunt object just to get a reduced item in Morrison’s, is willing to pay DOUBLE for extended warranty. Fuck it. Logic and reason was lost on her decades ago. I've given up trying to work her out.

Oh, and we heard about this “dilemma” alllllllll fucking day. Her cunt of a husband of course didn’t want to wait for the guy to fix it. Moneybags wanted to buy a new machine stating “you can pick one up for £200”. What? A washer-dryer? For £200? Are you a fucking idiot? By the way this guy earns about £50k year and delivers presentations at work. PRESENTATIONS!

He, as I have mentioned before, owns a BMW which to my knowledge has about a dozen miles on the clock and when the snow fell and the roads were fucked, he decided that then, THEN was the right time to take his beloved BMW out of hibernation and try to drive it to work, only to get stuck not even 20 meters from his house. A serious fucking idiot.

Jeremy Kyle

This underclass enforcer, the prince among pikeys and the chief among chavs work tirelessly for those who can’t - usually because they’re too busy punching the reflection in the mirror at that ”stoopid fuckin twat oo’s givin me evils”. Jeremy, the pseudo-psychobabble you offer your pathetic bottom-dwelling guests contains less insight than a pissed-up hen party, the fact that you say your own name every 20 seconds indicates you yourself have “issues”?, and your weird shrunken head and squinty eyes are so repulsive that I develop bulimia at 9:25 am every morning regular as clockwork.