Bloody bloody time-consuming stress-inducing ulcer-creating lying bastard chuck ‘em through the window useless junkheap spawn of the Devil. Infested with evil spirits the lot of ‘em. And all determined to get me. Bloody bloody machines. Just don’t ask!
Now where’d I put that sodding sledgehammer?
Right. Having got that out the way I can’t help notice that mein host hasn’t had a good old rant lately.
Hmm.
Must mean everything’s going swimmingly for him and he’s quite contented with his lot. (I’ll soon fix that if I get half a chance.) Either that or the evil machines have got him too. Heh heh. The thought of that suddenly makes me feel a whole lot better. Not that I’m vindictive, mean, or have a sadistic sense of humour of course.
