David arrived Friday for the weekend, he's down for a guru workshop with his sycophants out in the hills somewhere where the banjos still play, for a week next week.
He eats donuts and cakes until he is on the wrong side of 100 kilos then she arrives at our place with all sorts of bakery goods, everything gluten free.
“WTF?”
"Oh, sometimes I just feel bloated," was all he offered when I questioned him about his, apparent, diet.
As he arrived, Daniel Andrews moved the goal posts because of an infected hotel, quarantine, worker and David had to cut his numbers, which he found arduous. (Almost as arduous as listening to the reasons why cutting the numbers was arduous)
"Give me the list and a red pen and I'll have it done for you in 5 minutes," I offered.
He pulled away from me in horror.
Then it all got too much and his anxieties kicked in and the new age spiritualist cancelled everything and took off in the direction of home, nary a disciple having been service at all.
You know you get those old aunties who end up looking like beachballs. And they insist on wearing those tank tops and loose shorts they used to wear in their 30's, and they end up being all tits and arse on two tooth pick legs? That's what David now looks like, he's gone and got so fat during lock down. Then he buys gluten free fucken bread like he is suddenly on some fucking health kick. Jesus fuck.
No comments:
Post a Comment