Stupid Bitch

My mum has been the victim of a shyster. A scruffy looking drunkard accosted her in town yesterday and talked her into giving him two hundred quid.
He told her that if he couldn’t send a thousand pounds home to his wife by Friday, she’d be kidnapped by gangsters, and his cattle herd would be raped.
Mum got to the cashpoint so quick you’d think it was a bottle of whiskey.
‘Where was he from?’ I asked
‘Somewhere in Russia I think’ she said
‘You didn’t find out for sure?’ I asked
‘Well, he definitely had an accent’ she said ‘he sounded a bit like your Uncle Barry’
Uncle Barry, by the way, is a Geordie.
My mum falls for that kind of thing all the time. She’s a salesmans’ dream. If you told her she’d get free beer by sending off her piss in an envelope she’d be reaching for a Manila in a heartbeat.
So now we’re back on the Tesco Value sausages, and the dog’s eating last weeks’ leftovers.

I released my anger at my mother by comfort eating my way through a Family Pack of curly wurlies and a Snickers, then lay down in bed to watch ‘The Great Escape.’ I bought the video at a car boot sale for a pound last week and had been looking forward to watching it ever since.
It turned out the previous owner had taped over it with old episodes of ‘Neighbours.’
But Natalie Imbruglia turned up in two of them, so the night wasn’t wasted completely.

RC 16-4-08
2215 GMT