Darts! That's all you ever talk about. "Hey Ethel, d'ya fancy taking a trip to feed the ducks at the lake? No, I wanna play darts ... Hey Ethel, wanna go to the store and shoplift some magazines? No, I wanna play darts." You're so fucking predictable. It's not as if you actually play darts, what with your arthritis. There's no way you'd be able to grip a dart between those mangled, cornflake-shaped fingers.
Monday, 15 September 2008
William James Mercer Hates Being In A Care Home.
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2 comments:
I fucking hare Ethel too. Darts is a crap game, fit only for drunken bastards who are so far down the evolutionary chain that they have to count using their fingers.
It's spear-chucking for racists, if you ask me.
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