Saturday, 27 September 2008

Snoring Cats and Death-threats

Well it's 6.40am and I'm wide awake. Decided to come downstairs and write, as The Colonel was snoring like a drunken pig after his Titty-Bar Afterparty escapades (I left him in a fuddled state in a Patpong bar with some keen local woman stroking the inside of his thigh and calling him "Lover Man"). I kept nudging him this morning to stop him snoring...he was driving me insane. The exchange went like this:

Me: "Mossy, stop fucking snoring"
The Colonel (sleep-talking now) : "It's not me, I wasn't even there."
Me: "Mossy...turn over on your stomach...I can't get a wink of sleep."
The colonel: "I don't know what you're on about. I don't have any paper, and I haven't finished downloading it. I didn't download anything it wasn't even me."
Me: "For fuck's sake...I'm going to have to kill you, Mossy"

So I left, and I'm in reception typing this. Far be it for me to comment on The Colonel's sexual predilictions, but I'd suggest Lancashire Police have a look at his hard drive back home, if he's that worried about it?

Oh...and the snoring cat? It's in reception. I've never heard anything like it. I'm sorely tempted to pick the fucker up and throw it in the room with him.

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