He is extremly accident prone, fallin over own feet, small stones, dogs. Spraying food down his designer shirts, puncturing bodily parts and spraying blood everywhere. It is an endless list of disasters. He is good for an argument my dad. He is also good for saying or doing totally outrageous things. He has to write under various pseudonyms in order to get his letters published in the papers, which he does frequently. He loves it. He'd be a great blogger, venting his spleen but he keeps warning me of the evil of the wonderful web. "The CIA could be watching everything you blog about daughter, he warned recently. I assured him that the last thing the CIA want to read about is my love life, porridge stuck in my pubes and teenagers. I still giggle at the thought of the local council opening his entry to their photography competition themed around the local high street. He took stacks of photos of dog turds made that his entry. i still try to picture the poor person in the council office opening that particular entry. His most recent outburst; I don't know if I dare share this with you. I am still shocked....
" they ( the local council who are usually on the receiving end) have been digging up the pavements and kerbs. Why? Because we have 3 people in wheelchairs where I live"
And dad what pray is wrong with that?
"it's costing nearly a HUNDRED thousand pounds to re do these kerb stones. Those folk have managed fine before now, no one has asked them if they want these alterations or if they would like the money spent on improving their lives in some other way. NO! They've just done it. "He's in full flow now " that's one hundred thousand pounds of tax payers money!"
Yes dad, I sigh resignedly into the phone, thinking he sounds like he is winding down now maybe we can get onto a safer subject ( there aren't many )
"it would have been more cost effective to use £30K and pay a hit man to get rid of them"