Cunt the first was in the pub last night, and was being particularly tiresome. Two new customers started giggling at his incessant yattering, and the landlord said that he was a lovely man, with his heart in the right place. I did not respond. Afterwards my brother and I compared notes about what the bastard had said to us. I am right. He is a cunt. He's vile, but not in front of others. I remembered that I started challenging him only after he had spoken inappropriately to me on a couple of occasions.
There is a new pest that latches himself onto my brother like a limpet. He's very like Arthur Pewtie from Monty Python. Same voice, same expression, same manner, same level of uninterestingness. He's a boring tit. I could see my brother's eyes glazing over so I kept interrupting so that he could go outside for a fag. Arthur kept following him outside and following him back to the bar. The game of scrabble was a life-saver. Arthur left after only four hours of mind-numbing 'conversation'. Ouch.
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