What an absolute waste of a day this has been. Hamo said that it was tae be Scorchio and ah thought ah’d get up early, plant masel in front of the Sun and start livin’ up tae ma Surname. Ah set the alarm for 10am, which was givin’ me Five Hours sleep. Ah got a bit carried away wi’ the Rothmans Fitba’ books and was up late. Ah heard the alarm and it didny look roastin’ outside so ah dozed off and didny wake till 6.20pm. So, that put me right intae ‘What a F–kin Fanny’ mode right away. The funny thing is that externally things dinny look too bad apart from havin’ awfy dry skin on ma joints. Ma elbows and Knees are the worst but ma knuckles have been awfy itchy lately.There’s the ongoing thing wi’ ma legs [ which has started to get worse in ma arms] which is a constant source of discomfort and now ah’ve started tae get funny wee dizzy turns followed by an involuntary tremble in ma left hand. Ah’ve also been experiencing a weird thing in ma left eye, where it’s like a wee shadow constantly there, which sometimes flickers away like a Lighthouse on Cocaine. If it was ma right eye ah’d be thinkin’ it’s maybe just as well ah’m at the eye clinic at St Jocks in a Fortnight for the lazer surgery, that ah have to get Four times a year. But it’s ma left eye that’s causin’ the trouble at the moment. Ah get the surgery because wee blood vessels which have nowhere to attach on to have tae be burned away tae stop them releasing blood intae ‘No mans land’, causin the eye tae lose Eighty per cent of its capacity- so that’s another virtual nail in the coffin.
Ah’d like, at this time, tae give a mention tae ‘Long John’, the Pirate He never accepts thanks for any thing that he does and ah wid like to use a Ricky Fultonism and take this opporchancity tae thank him for his contribution to ma wonderful day. Ah had Two bits of plywid, chipboard, whatever it’s called, that ah had planned tae put the Train set on but it was awfy cumbersome and a cunt tae shift, so ah told ‘Long ‘John’ that he could have it. He took one bit and started tae take it doon the stairwell and ah suggested that we could lift the Two bits up and manage the stairs fine, even though the combined weight was …. ‘Weighty’. That fell on the deafest Ears that ah’d ever encountered, up until that point, in ma life. So, ah thought, ‘fine’. When ah was gettin’ the other bit of plywid, ah heard what sounded like a Fuckin’ herd of Elephants in a China shop and it was ‘Long John’ draggin’ the wid doon the stairs so that the bottom corner was thuddin’off the stairs and shakin’ the foonds of the buildin’, wi’ nae thought or consideration for me or anyone else in the stairwell. Ah ran oot and asked if he could maybe make less noise takin’ the wid doon the Three flights of stairs, and that fell on the deafest Ears that ah’ve ever encountered in ma life, coupled wi’ a look that made me feel guilty for askin’ in the First place – and he just carried on doon the stair makin’ even mare Fuckin’ noise and carryin on like an even bigger C–t than he was bein’ before ah asked him to be a bit quieter. At this time, ‘The Daughter of Atticus’ stormed oot her door complainin’ aboot the noise and threatenin’ tae tell the Polis aboot ma plants. Thankfully they aw died, so the Polis are welcome tae search high and low for the C–ts.. Anyway, she’s standin’ like one of they NWA Gangsta C–ts, threatenin tae get the Polis for the noise ‘Long John’ was makin and ah’m thinkin ‘aw for Fucks sake’. Ah told her,that if she had a problem wi’ the noise, tae have a word wi ”Long John’, who, by this time was breengin’ doon the stairs like Usain Fuckin’ Bolt wi’ a wreckin’ Baw. Ah then proceded doon the stairs , liftin the wid up, makin sure no’ tae make a noise, and wee P Fuddy androgynous Cunt carried on wi’ her rant. Ah got the wid doon the stair and outside and ah was effed and ma Heart was racin’, so ah thanked ‘Long John’ for startin’ WW3. Nothin’, no’ a sorry or anything, Fuck all. So that pissed me off and ah just wanted an amitriptyline by then. Later, there was a knock at the door and it was ‘The ‘Daughter of Atticus’ danglin’ a Pound coin in front of me askin’ if she could buy a couple of fags. Ah couldny believe it. Earlier, the other ‘wee C–t fae next door’ was at the door askin’if ah had a toilet roll. Gave her the toilet roll, and it was an Andrex and no’ that sandpaper ah get delivered. Ah know beggars canny be choosers, but ye want a nice wipe. Ah always shudder when ah think of the Stem Cell treatment and how ah didny want tae dae a Shite because ma Sphincter felt like it had been stung by a Dozen Wasps, then had Salt and Vinegar poured over it, and that was before ah’d even done a Shite, let alone wiped ma erse. So, the thought of an uncomfortable wipe obviously brought oot the good Samaritan in me and ah thought it was a neighbourly thing tae dae. Ah gave the Daughter of Atticus a couple of Fags and told her tae keep her money. What a Tit. Ah’m tryin’ no’ tae be a Fanny aboot this and just want tae be a good guy – but there’s bein’ a good guy and bein’ a Tit. Up early the Morn, tae stop the wee C–ts fae stealin’ the grocery box.
Ah canny believe the amount of Dating sites and Singles sites that are on the Pusbook. Ah calculated that there are so many of them that ah only know aboot Seven married folk [wid’ve been Eight but one of them was unfaithful wi’ a Coo doon at Dandy’s field last week. The man was well up for it but the whole thing came as a total surprise tae the Coo and what followed… Ye’ll have tae consult the Oracle at Pumphy for that. He’s in the Hoose mostly, but if ye leave enough Baubles, Bangles and Weed at his door, the C–t’ll tell ye anything. Ah was on aboot they daft sites on the Pusbook. They’d be as well callin’ them ‘Plenty of Boabby’ or ‘Plenty of Gash’ or ‘Gies a shag FFS’. That’s basically what they’re aw sayin’. Ah quite like bein’ single and selfish, that way ye can only Piss off and/or please yersel. It’s never really been a comfortable situation tae be in, for me, a relationship. Ah’ve never been one tae force ma way of livin’ on tae anybody else and ah just switch off if anybody tries tae force their way of livin’ on tae me – and ah know for a fact that ah am and, wid be, a Fuckin’ nightmare tae live wi’. Ye should be meetin’ people by chance, on a Bus or at a Bus stop, walkin’ yer Dug, on a night oot, no’ by E mail order.
June was not a great Month for the outdoor Jobbier- Covid and a lot of rain meant that it was Pumpherstons lightest Month for outdoor Jobbies since Jobbies began. It goes withoot sayin, but ah’ll say it anyway, that the figures are for the Summer months only. Pumpherstons outdoor Jobby season runs from March 21 till September 21 mainly for the light and the lush vegetation we get between then. October and November Jobbies are rare and it is only the very hardy and Tonka tough, who will go for a December dump or a January Jobby. Pumpherston has it’s own reason for it’s winter lull. Pumphy kids grew up knowin’ auld Maria, who had the Gypsy Caravan doon near the Hairy tip. She wore the Gypsy clothes and had the creepy voice, ‘Even the man who is pure of Heart and wipes his Erse by night, can succumb tae the Bum on a midnight walk when the Autumn Moon is bright’ Legend has it that the Baw tickler Imp comes out in early November to haunt Shiters. No’ many folk will admit tae bein’ an ‘Ootsider’ let alone admit tae havin their Baws tickled by the ‘Phantom’, so evidence is a bit sketchy, but when the auld Gypsy woman said that wee poem wi’ her creepy voice, ah did ny even want tae dae a Shite in the Hoose, let alone outside. Here’s the Shittin’ forecast, anyway. The Golfie- a bit dodgy, tae be honest. The more exhibitionist types will relish the challenge of a busy Golf course, but the shy Shiter will not be seen here. The Hairy Tip – still the top spot in Pumphy for a safe Jobby, vegetation, good cover and Wildlife in abundance. Reach ‘Touchdown just as an elegant Buzzard glides by or wipe to some enchanting Bird song. Another fine spot is the old mine on the East Calder viaduct path. What was the pit head provides excellent cover, with the wall like structures which obviously were the frame for some kind of winching system to bring shale up from the mine. The site offers wonderful views of the Almond valley and has been shortlisted for Outdoor Shite magazine’s ‘Stunning sites’ Nirvana award. The competition was originally meant to be play on words with Sean Connery narrating the advert saying ‘Shtunning Shite’sh, but he’s a greedy C–t and the magazine refused to give him what he wanted. The top park wids- has lost some of it’s appeal on account of being flanked by Two Housin’ schemes where in the past there was a ‘Beware of the Jobbier’ sign at both entrances to the wids back in the Seventies, when it was a lot quieter.
The Forth Bridge
The desperation ye feel sometimes when yer dyin’ for a fag can lead ye tae awfy desperate and sad behaviour. Ah’ve been there, in aboot the bins in the hoose, gettin’ past a bean or a hanky ye’ve just blawn yer nose wi’, tae get tae a fag end that’s got a few Millimetres of White faggy bit left. That’s how desperate ah can get for a draw of something that’s shite for ye, withoot addin’ E Coli and Botulism intae the mix. Only rarely do ah get that low on Baccy- the Admiral gives me a bit of an ear wiggin’ aboot that, and has always got some on the go. Anyway, there was a knock on the door earlier today and luckily Callum was in, because he was witness to the way ah handled the followin’ events. Ah’d vowed that it was a case of ‘Fuck off, enough’s enough’ if they wee C–ts came to the door ever again. So, ah answered the door, and lo and effin behold, it was the Daughter of Atticus, holdin’ up a bag which ah recognised as the bag that was put outside next doors = the bag that, ah was gaunny steal off them as a reprisal for the food box stolen from mine. Then, ah thought,’Fuck it’, reprisal OFF’. That wid make me just like them, so ah didny lift it. Ah’ve never been light fingered and always thought that stealin’ wisny nice and nice people dinny steal. That isny the case, though. So, there’s the Daughter of Atticus lookin’ aw that way that ah dinny ken the word for it, or it’s eludin’ me at the moment – when a Dugs done somethin’ it shouldny have and it’s aw Bambi eyed and lookin as guilty as Billy o. She was holdin’ this bag up sayin’ ah’ve got some steak pies for ye, ah didny steal yer food and ma Dug does get walked, here’s the pies. Then she came oot wi’the mini sob story/Shakespearean Tragedy that her life’s been like for the last couple of weeks -[ Malcolm Arnolds Third of his Four Scottish Dances has just come on the Spotify, what a beautiful piece of music].- aye, next door. She’s insistin’ that ah take the pies, ah’m insistin’ that ah dinny need or want them and ah won because she lowered the pies in some kind of, ‘You win’ gesture that’s probably got a name in the pie/confrontation world. Then, it was ‘Could ye spare a fag or Two, and a voice from behind her whisperin’ ‘and some skins” Ah never say ‘Skins’, no’ that that’s got any relevance tae this story, but ah’ve never used that name for fag papers. It’s like ‘Jambo’s’ – ah Fuckin’ hate that, it’s a ‘Sun ism’. It’s the Jam Tarts and that’s that. That Shitey paper did what they did wi’ every name and stuck an O or an A at the end of it, and noo it’s inveigled it’s way intae the psyche and the language. Bastardo’s. So, after hearin’ the no’ very whispery whisper of ‘and some skins’, ah was expectin a roar fae inside their flat sayin’ ‘Oh and see if the saft C–ts got a lighter tae’. Sadly ah gave in and handed her some Baccy. When it comes tae the crunch, ah canny be a C–t, when it comes to a sob story. The Lawyers Daughter came back later, half cut offerin’ me Two Quid for some Baccy, gettin’ aw that guilty Puppy way sayin’ she’d had a bad couple of weeks and had wanted tae kill herself [ ah didny want tae say that over the last week or Two that’s exactly what ah was hopin’ she’d dae], so ah gave in again and gave her some more Baccy.Women greetin’s an awfy thing tae be involved in or near to.
Jesus Christ, what a Shite day that’s just ended. Ah had a Shite sleep tae begin wi’ and it was about Eight in the mornin’ when ah dozed off. Didny wake up till half one in the afternoon and when ah checked for the Covid shoppin’, the note had been put through the letterbox to say it had been delivered, but when ah opened the door, nothing. It had been stolen, and ah know it was those pond life Bastards next door. There was a knock at the door earlier that mornin’ and it was someone from next door. Ah didny answer because it was half Two in the mornin’ and ah heard the next door openin’ and closin’ as someone went back into the flat. That’s the First time ah’ve deefy’d the wee Bastards, after givin’ them fags, Tobacco, fag papers, toilet rolls and £45 over the course of the last few weeks. So, ah thought ‘FUCK IT’, enough’s enough, it’s got beyond a joke, yer gettin’ nae mare, ah don’t care how desperately ye need a fag or a Shite, yer gettin’ FUCK ALL. Because they’ve been shagged or abused in some way when they were young, they’ve become the ‘We can’t be blamed for anything because we had a Shite childhood’ brigade. It’s a nightmare, ah’d just shoot the Cunts – take them intae the Wids, knock Fuck oot them and shoot them. That’s me after Two Prozac and Three Amatriptyline’s and a Rastafarian roll up or Two. They’re just showin’ a blatant and flagrant disregard for the others in the block, and the next block. The Polis did say that they’re tryin’ to arrange an ASBO for the wee Bastards. Hopefully they’ll be evicted or deid soon. If anything did happen tae them ah’d be the main suspect if it was a Poirot or Miss Marple, thing, but in the last Five minutes, the culprit, who hasny been referenced at aw up until then, will be revealed. So that was the beginnin’ of the day, the middle wasn’t much better and by the end of the day ah just wanted tae kill somebody, or somebody tae kill me.. So that was ma Shite day. Tae make matters worse, the Greek guy ah get ma Weed fae, Costas Woppincropodopeolous, got busted. Mare on that one in the Pumphy News.
We had oor Monday Cancer Bus meetin’ earlier today and it ended wi’ me getting a row off a certain party who shall remain Dunc. Ah was a bit out of order in that ah nipped roond tae the Admirals for some Baccy and ended up gettin’ a crew cut and some ships biscuits. Dunc made me feel so guilty aboot the episode that ah got doon the road, after bein’ put on shore by the Admiral, feelin’ like it was me who murdered that wee Shetland Pony at the back end of Pumphy. Ah sincerely hope that the wee Bastard who did that gets Rodgered and Buggered tae within an Inch of his life wherever it is they sent him. Just as well ah got the Biscuits, ah’ll be able tae sleep. Anyway, Zack the Dug. One of these days Duncs livin’ room walls are gaunny resemble the scene at the Charles Manson murders. Whenever ah walk intae Duncs livin’ room Zack almost attacks me wi’ happiness and exuberance. Ah don’t know if Duncs been Buggerin’ him tae within an Inch of his life, and he’s delighted and overjoyed tae see me because ah’m no’ intae that, but if the hardon it had the day had burst there wid’ve been a Fuckin’ blood bath. He was gaun mental,lickin’ ma face and gettin’ that whimpery, greety way that they get [ that’s Zack, by the way, and no’ Dunc – he got like that later- and ah was gettin’ scared that it actually was gaunny burst. He could get a job in Dug Porn[ that’s Zack and no’ Dunc] wi a beast like that. That’s half Ten nearly and they wee Cunts next door are at it wi that shit music that isny music, just thump thump, Fuckin thump. Rolly time.
PUMPHY POND – Fair to middlin’ . The perimeter path offers no real camouflage, ideal for the more adventurous Jobbier who couldny give a F–k if he, or she is spotted but not so good for the people who like tae hide their Shite under a Bushell. THE OOBY BAHOOGAN BURN . The Burn, named after an unfortunate villager who fell off a Tarzan rope into the Burn and swallowed some water, whereupon, over the next day or Two, his Baws ballooned to quite scary proportions. The Burn is a run off from the pond, which was a feature of the Pumpherston Works and latterly became a popular spot for unwanted Puppies and Kittens to, unsuccessfully, learn to swim, so drinkin’ it isny a great idea. As you head South along the Burn, the gradual slope offers the Jobbier some cover- and the view is delightful, but there is the chance that some tight erse will venture near your Shite site lookin’ for a Ball he’s just sclaffed in your direction. THE TARRY POND- far and away the best part of the Golf course for an outdoor Shite. It’s deemed a hazard and is fenced off on the grounds that the area is unstable and above old mine workings that could give way. It has luxuriant undergrowth and is covered in Small trees and bushes. Ye’d actually have tae go lookin’ for somebody who was daein’ a Shite, tae see somebody daein’ a Shite. PADDY’S ACRE- The wee field which has a glorious view of the Coursing and Pentland Hills has been nominated Three times in the ‘Ootdoor Shit’ magazine for Best outdoor Shite Site in Scotland. Walkers and Tourists have harangued the local council into supplyin’ Bog roll for the site they were poo poo’d. THE HAIRY TIP -Ideal for the outdoor Jobbier with lots of gulleys and undulations and good tree covering. so good a place ye might find yersel daein’ a Shite next tae a Deer or Fox, who might be daein’ a Shite tae. THE AULD MINE SHAFT- was a great place until the new Pumphy village was built. This, too, has a fence around it and thick greenery all over. the Mine is totally hidden so it still is classed as a category 1 risky Shite.
SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES
Got ma letter from the Hospital today regardin’ ma MRI scan ah got a couple of Weeks ago. Ah was a bit apprehensive when ah was openin’ the thing, thinkin’ this could be’ THE letter, the one wi’ the Shite news.Ah’ve been lucky- so far, ma First Diagnosis of the Cancer gave me a Fifty/Fifty chance of living, ah had, by all accounts, a massive Heart attack after ma Second dose of Chemo, that should’ve killed me [ Mr Miracle ah was called by the First Three Doctors who saw me afterwards], the stroke ah never even knew ah’d had. These things point to me bein’ a lucky Bastard. Paty hardly had time tae say ‘That’ll be that, then’, before he was gone. Ah have quite a lot of painful moments, a horrible jaggin’ feelin, as if somebody’s just stuck a pin in yer leg or foot, leg Muscles constantly hurtin’, sudden,short, sharp pains just under ma oakster, mad dizzy spells when whatever ah’m lookin’ at, whether it’s a book or the Telly, takes on a Blue or Reddish tint. That’s obviously the circulation problems in ma heid that are causin’ that. Ah’ve got narrowings and blockages of the arteries that carry the blood from my stomach to my leg and it looks like the wee bubble in the artery for me, Angioplasty. The letter said that by pass surgery is a possibility but only if this Angio thing doesny work. What a golden opporchancity tae gie up the Fags, one of many that ah keep makin’ a C–t of.. Tomorrow ah’m gaun for it.
The big news out of Pumphy this Week was the scandal at the Womens Orange Lodge [ The Daughters of Billy] when it came oot in the wash[ or maybe it came oot in the Sash,?, ah don’t know] that Five of the ‘Daughters’ are pregnant. Where’s the scandal in that ye might ask,- well, it turns oot that that they’re aw pregnant tae the same felly. The mystery shagger, or Sashanova as local wags have been callin’ him, was takin’ a chance gettin’ big Billy McBigots wife, big Billymina, up the duff because A- she’s scary as F–k and B – big Billy’s even scarier. His favourite meal is a Cheese and Catholic Omelette. Ah’m sure we’ve no’ heard the last of that, in fact, as ah write a source has informed me that Pumphy’s very own Porn star couple, Monty Fuck and Fanny Sayer [ no relation to porn Historian Simon Tea bag Montefanny, have offered Big Billy and big Billymina an undisclosed fee for the rights to film the story, which will be filmed on Sunday and shown at the Pumphyplex Cinema House from Tuesday. The Film, called ‘The Sash, the gash and the ugly’, will no doubt be the couples usual mixture of lust, Pizza’s and Electricians wi’ huge appliances.