blahblahblahblahblahblah… blah

This was my earnestly delivered thought for the week at work. A string of meaningless shite that only those few of my co-Muppets… er… workmates, who don’t practise it, are likely to get.

There is something unfathomable to me about the constant stream of semi-articulate blubber that is spewed forth by certain members of the population. …gad! Do I doom the rest of us by lumping us under the same heading as these verbal incontinents?

It’s not only the endless vomit of babble, of chatter, of mindless words that have no more interest to me than the smears on the bog paper at the end of an entirely satisfying crap, that makes me a little batty (to put it mildly), but the complete and utter lack of realisation that the pained expression on my face, while they’re nattering away at the universe, means I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR ANYMORE, CAN’T YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR FIVE MINUTES. Not all night. I am not asking that much, really, just five minutes out of every hour to be not filled with such fucking inanity.

Although I guess in all fairness, I am talking about Muppets here, and perhaps whoever it is who has their hand up the rear end of these babbling little creatures is to busy flapping his fingers to notice the look on my face.



~ by Gethin A. Lynes on October 14th, 2007.

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