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Cosy covid life affirming story corner.
After not being able to taste food for a brief moment I thought I had contracted the big C (other big C move over innit there's a new big C in town, not to mention the syg big Cuntsss n all...eh? Foken eh? Arnly joking). Thankfully as it turns out I'm just a shit chef.
There's quite a few confirmed cases in the office where I work so it's a good job I'm one of them home working hermit's these days. The area where I live is the worst hit in the country now and a total lockdown may be imminent. It's fine however; Scotch and kentucky bourbon supplies are stocked to amazingly toxic levels with double (lol) punk brewdog 8 odd % alcohol cans in full effect to handle these life-trying tribulations - so life as you were then.
Method + conclusion
Covid is shit, yet without it I wouldn't have been able to spend days in the garden getting drunk whilst getting paid or been able to unceremoniously lap up the countries round of applause every Thursday at 8 from my lounge window.
Hijab wearing nutters, no longer nutters but instead a dignified solidarity between the mind and the Cunting public.
It's nay wonder this place is facing another lockdown when the assistants in morrisons ask you to pull your mask down when buying booze. I wonder if they do this to hijab wearers? Which raises a question; has a Muslim woman wearing a hijab ever bought booze from *any morrisons?
The end?
* cos' conglomerate Corp. so it would be 'any' as opposed to just local
Next week's episode: I fucking love covid me, and it will kill you, by floatingslowly**
** where is he anyway?!
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