Today I went to the races with a good friend Jeremiah. Quite frankly a marvellous fellow when looking for a bit of rambunctious fun despite having ears like a granny's underflaps.
I am quite renowned for my love of the fillies so it is always a splendid thing to watch them get all lathered up whilst racing for money. Of course, no races would be complete without a little gin on the stands with a cigar and it was while we shared a snifter that Jeremiah told me of the mishap with his gardener.
Apparently, the blighter had the effrontery to ask for gloves now that the weather was turning colder.
The cheek of it, did you oblige?
I enquired. I half feared the answer because Jeremiah was notorious in the club for his temper.
Oblige?! Oblige?! I stuck a brush up his arse and told him to shut his peasant mouth and sweep the bloody leaves up!
I breathed a sigh of relief that his response had been so reasonable.
Did that sort him out then?
No, the rapscallion started shouting about his vowels or something. Started dragging the brush about quite half-heartedly. Blood everywhere. I was not amused.
Jeremiah held his hands under his chin and made a dry vagina face.
Milord, Milord. My vowels. You've burst them!
We both chortled till we were red in the face then turned our attention back to the track. I had some money on Silk Purse Snatcher to romp home and I had that special feeling I was on to a winner.
It was later as I settled into my big old armchair and placed my slippered soles on the maids back that I contemplated the deeds of the day.
How preposterous that Jeremiah's gardener and his dirty fingered ilk should seek to elevate themselves above their station. Although the fellow had died he was lucky to have been treated so leniently. We had chipped in and sent the widow half a loaf and a farthing to help dry her eyes.
Perhaps I should boot up the old pooter and turn my attention to my needy steemians. I was in the mood to dole out some...
SpamFarmer1: You are voting for inactive witnesses! Are you aware of this?
Uncle Boom: And?
SpamFarmer1: You could remove your vote and asign it to active witnesses who can do good for steemit.
Uncle Boom: Ah!! You mean you want your piggy snout in the trough at the big boys table gobbling down all that Steem old fellow?
SpamFarmer1: Active witnesses that don't miss blocks are a benifit to Steemit.
Uncle Boom: Oink oink piggy. I will vote for who I please. Preferably a witness who can spell.
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SpamFarmer2: Wana exchange voted?
Uncle Boom: Fuck off dickface.
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SpamFarmer3: Do you like Parkour ? does that even sounds amazing for you? Want to see me doing parkour?
Uncle Boom: Par-coor? Is that the foreign sexy sexy?
SpamFarmer3: Parkour? You know, free running.
Uncle Boom: Free running? In my day they called it watersports. Dreadful stink.
SpamFarmer3: Water? No my friend. Totally dry. lol
Uncle Boom: Dry? What, wait a minute? Are we talking shitting here? You want to shit on me you misshapen testicle? A little wetting is acceptable to a man of means but the third bean?!?? You are out of your mind. I will thrash the shite out of you how about that?
The insolence of you. If I could get my hand up that internet funnel I would pull out your bloody gizzards.
Hello? Hello?
Pah, he is gone.
I will be damned if I let a fellow shit on me again. Such impertinence.
A busy week this time. I hope I have managed to dispense some valuable advisements for you all? Remember, if you feel the need, you can find me on the steemit chats. Anonymity is assured, after all...
