But not Pepper Potts. probably.
'twas not my day today.
'twas not my day today.
Scabby scabsters five-finger discounters purloining my purchases resulting in much trekking about the city in search of elusive western heroes.
Barista bingo win - three on a row, but any erudite genitalmanly conduct of impressiveness was ruined by Starbucks spectres spilling my Gingybread latté all over me trews, and having to present myself to serving wenches all dampened about the trouserial area with caffeinated combats.
Jeremy Kyle Family At War on the omnibus. Great fat screeching fishwife with her obnoxious skinny shagpartner and brood of 8 feral offspring. All who have to have a pair of seats to each creature thing person and spread about the bus. Bellowing to each other as the brats rampage up and down and climb the poles 'accidentally' ringing the bells as the chimps run riot. Mother and son having a sweary fistfight at the back before having a kiss and make up, with Mother bragging about her pædo incest.
Honestly, if I had my way, the parents would be thrown off the bus. Whilst moving. On a narrow bridge over a gorge. With weights attached in case they hit a river. And the kids sold off for bacon.
