Old Father Thames unspeakably dour, sour- faced and foul to all last 2 days. Refusing to speak. I had dinner tonight listening to my audible talking books- so isolated felt I in same room and across same table as the vile one, who barely cast a look in my direction all evening Scowling/glowering if not snarling . Truth is OFT also physically hideous when grumpy. Slobbing about in Fat Face top distended over his repulsive paunch- jeans ridiculously low slung low solely because of above mentioned blubbery stomach. He bends over at every possible opportunity and reveals revolting white skin, bumcrack, freckles on exposed flesh etc…urgh. I think we all long to say “Hitch yer jeans up you gimp!” But no one dares, so sour, so petulant is he….
I long for an amnesty and to be permitted to place well aimed, very hard kick at his bum. Want to see him fall forward on the patio rocking to and fro on bloated paunch, flailing cursing and arm waving. Just once…just the once. Promise.
Could not quite put finger on his malaise? Was it because the dog absconded again? New robotic lawnmower he swore by gone phut already? (2 weeks post purchasr).
No – tonight having puzzled day or so I understand finally . We have exceeded data allowance on our ee Wi-Fi package thingy. We have 2 miserable days on dial up speed internet. Like being hobbled. That’s it. All understood at last. We have list our warp speed internet.
The River Files 