You know me too well, 'bowlhead. Good job you don't see/hear/read the shoit I put on WhatsApp...
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Little Things That Irk You VII: Seething Pains
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Sick of seeing peeps post other peeps' circulars about 'depression and anxiety' on Facebook whilst simultaneously witnessing said peeps acting selfishly all the time in real life, utilising their 'affliction' as a tool to justify them acting like a wanker, or at least a wanker's son.
There's peeps I know on there I have on subconscious suicide watch. It's never the moaners. All they feel depressed about is when someone gets a birthday cake and they don't get a slice.
THEY are the ones boasting about depression and anxiety. The non-cake slice getters. Billy Suicide is in the corner, foaming at the mouth from an overdose. He never whined about it on Facebook.
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Billy Suicide is that nice, quiet guy with the twitchy eye from the garden centre, him who carried them two huge bags of compost to your car and turned down that £2 coin tip. He's that guy you get your lottery off every week. For the last thirty years. And his wife. For the last thirty years. You can just tell they both wanna die, that their life is a slow, creeping death.
It's not Johnny Moaner, getting tablets off the doc and slating First buses every day on FB because they were seven minutes late AGAIN. That their Wetherspoons mince was undercooked...or overcooked. And then they go on the sick with stress for 4-5 months.
Life is a funny old game, my friends.
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Also, root beer available at Jack Fulton's, Carters/Cott Beverages, £1.29 for 6x330ml cans, it's a wee bit augmented with sweeteners but it's never been a sweet SWEET drink, more an antiseptic typa thang, and it still tastes awesome, total blast from the past!!! My first ever Mickey D's meal in the late 80s came with root beer. You can barely get it now. Jack Fulton's me old pal.
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