You’re not impressing anyone with your constant dribbliness. You’re like an old man’s wang… and who’d want an old man’s wang stuck under their armpit? Not me, that’s who! My clothes would also request that you stop using them as some kind of cashmere jumper to cry on. If you have problems, go and seek help from your brethren instead. Go ask my pituitary glands for advice. Or my lymph nodes. But don’t take it out on my fine, tailored garments.
Piss off, in other words, until the summer. When I will require you to stop me dying of heat-stroke. Your working in the winter does not mean I am be impressed by your splendid work-rate and diligence. It merely means I smell.
Thank you,
Munky xx
