Dave Douchenugget and the PG Tips.

Titselina Bumsqueak and I have a long history of laughter – way back to the last century in fact! That’s something I love saying, “last century”! It’s kind of scary when you realize this years HS graduating classes weren’t even born then – but I digress!

Last time I visited TB she was still living with the slimeball, Dave Douchenugget. You met him previously in The Joy of Sexting. The only good thing I can say about him is Thank Snoopy and the Great Pumpkin she didn’t marry the arse!

They both worked for a Casino at the time so he was working a lot of nights. He was a real grumpy bugger when he got up in his version of the morning (about 3pm) so Lisa and I had taken the kids to a local farm zoo for the day so they wouldn’t wake him up by playing. When we got back I was teaching them to be Russian Spies and sneak around the house being WERRY KVI -ET! and talking to them in a pretty diabolical Russian accent which they loved.

Anyway the grumpy bugger descended from his celestial pit to grace us all with his presence. He stalked into the living room in high dudgeon, barked “MOVE” at one of the kids sitting in his chair, plonked himself down and promptly turned the TV from Fireman Sam (not a bad thing! I HATED that ginger welsh knob!) to Cricket (VERY BAD THING!!)

The whole mood in the room changed and to be honest, I was pissed off with him.

Still in my Russian Character I said “Hey Comrade. Yoo vant kup ov Te?”

He answered with “yeh orright” as though he was doing me a favor by ALLOWING me to serve him. I think you know that wasn’t destined to end well…

I left TB sat there, silently stewing and went out to the kitchen. The kids followed me and buggered off out into the garden to play.

I made him his tea, got TB and I a couple of Cokes and headed back through to the living room. I handed everyone their drinks and sat down on the other sofa.

With my very abrupt stilted Russian accent I said

“So Comrade, Yoo Li-uk Te?”

He replied “erm, yes thanks, it’s very nice”

“Iz gud ya?”

“Erm.. yes. Thank you”

“Ay mek it wiz me-ulk frum ti-it”

That was it. He sprayed tea everywhere. TB, who has a laugh like a hyena in labour, dropped her coke and was hanging on to the sofa with one hand on the floor to balance where she was laughing so hard. He turned off the cricket, taught me a few words of – Mongolian I think – and stormed off to make his own tea and watch cricket upstairs!

No Cricket. No Fireman Sam. No kids. No Dave Douchenugget. One hysterical TB… that’s what I call a result!

Yoo vant kup ov Te tu celebrate comrade?!

5 thoughts on “Dave Douchenugget and the PG Tips.

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