Crisps: Best Served Cold

Like The Dane, I have revenge on the brain. Once again, Terry on reception abuses me to damn me, cruelly targeting the imperfections on my head. Frankly, I’m beginning to wish his too too solid flesh would melt.

I need to strike back, so am delighted to learn he’s just spent £250 on hypnotherapy in an effort to quit smoking.

‘It’s worse than kicking smack,’ he complains, gnawing a fist.

‘If it’s any consolation, I know exactly how you feel,’ I say earnestly, inspecting my fingernails. ‘I’ve given up crisps for lent.’

[Terry’s reply cannot be published for legal reasons]


7 Responses to Crisps: Best Served Cold

  1. JosyC says:

    Bravo. I almost feel sorry for the bastard.

  2. rivergirlie says:

    clearly, your mother sent you on a shakespeare workshop when you were 6, too.

  3. How would he know what kicking smack feels like unless his done it before? Who is this smack guy and why is everyone kicking him?

    Remember the everlasting hath his cannon set against self slaghter. Killing others is perfectly fine. The dane I Believe has some novel ideas on how it might be done?

  4. 100 Words says:

    J: What about me? Crisps were an important part of my life …

    R: Well spotted. Don’t tell anyone else, though …

    F: I wouldn’t put anything past old Terry. He’s lived an interesting life.

  5. stinkypaw says:

    It’s all about giving up something that is important to you, so crisps it is! 😉 Good comeback!

  6. Mamma Loves says:

    Oh, the empathy!!!

  7. cheep checks says:

    cheep checks

    Shoots assortment of cheep checks from supercooled nitrogen to superheated liquor.

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