Oh, once more my millinery accoutrément lands me in a spot of bother with follicly challenged gayboy chavscum!
This week, I was in my Steampunky feathery hornyness, and was met with occasional demands to let others adorn their ocularity with the purple spex of sexyness, or the gorgeous goggles of begogglery.
Anyhoo, as ever, there are those who want to actually wear one's cranial top-piece, and for some reason get all arsey is they's not alloweded to!
In the smoking area:
"Can I wear yer 'at mate?"
"No. It's my hat. I'll have all hat hair. So no."
Up on the dance floor
"Go on, lerrus wear your hat"
"No"
In the bog corridor
"Giz a wear o' yer hat"
"NO! That's thrice you've asked and yous not gonna wear it!"
Leaving the Whatacunt
*Git tries to swipe one's topper*
"Oi! You've been told no! Leave us alone!"
Outside...
*git sneaks up behind, and actually thieves one's hat and covers his own cunty coiffuré! *
*Xym swipes back the hat, and unlike previous hat-based altercations with gayboy chavscum, decides not tp punch the burglar in the face*
*git burst into tears at not being allowed to wear Xym's hat.*
Oh well. One also suspects one may have killed one's chances with my Starbucks Siren, who I think may have witness me berating the "thieving fat cunt" for being a thieving fat cunt.
Nothing ever changes, does it!
