Isn't life shit sometimes? Death's a pretty tricky number as well.......Reg is dead!
My beloved pet lobster evidently decided that he'd had enough and, when I came home from work tonight, there he was - motionless, glassy-eyed and no longer of this world.
Those with religion will say "God hath taken him unto himself" but I say "Bollocks, God! I hadn't fucking finished with him! Anyway, haven't you got enough on your plate already, what with Iraq, Palestine and the play-off final on Monday, without tucking in to my little lad?"
Those were the days, my friend.
I am finding it more than a little difficult to think of something funny to write about the passing of my lovely lobster and can honestly say that it has really upset me. Ok, on a scale of 1 - 10, with the disappearance of Madelaine McCann coming in as a 10, it doesn't really register, I know, but I'm still down about Reg's death.
This is going to be a little controversial, maybe, but I have decided to send God to Grantham. If he doesn't exist then there's no harm done. If he does then the townsfolk need his unique and challenging kind of help a damn site more than I do. Tattybye.
2 comments:
Did you give him a nautical send off down the lav, or did you...you know...pick up a bottle of seafood sauce?
Seriously though - awwww and *hug*
The lav! Dinner!!! Doris, you are a tirrible, tirrible woman! No, the thought of trying to ram a 1lb lobster round the U-bend is just too painful. I did, however, also shy away from going to the local boating lake and sliding Reg off into the depths down a little plank draped in the Pither colours. I have settled, instead, on a burial in the back garden, alongside all the other fallen, but with full maritime honours.
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