Monday, 20 April 2009

Pot Bellied

Had a blazed row with your child ? Worried they might be aheading down a kush-ty path of life ? I reefer you to the following parental guide for how to get your offspring unloaded.

It's from a novella, but we couldn't use it due to er artistic reasons ... Please advise on any amendments to the txt spk, as it's not my first language.

"Look, I know you won't stand for any of my lectures hectoring you. I'm sure you have no respect for me or a single word I have to say. Given the damning evidence of that text you mistakenly sent to me a while back. Being somewhat less than decorous about my ‘man tits’ and pot belly.

Let me see if I can reconstruct your vernacular precisely, oh yes, ‘splln out ovr hs towl lk stffn v knckrd sofa. spts n mols ll ovr lk polish pntrs ovrlls’ – your mother would thrill to your use of simile there, even if recoiling at recognition of the image conjured up (we’ll pass over spelling/grammar and chalk that one up to the new dumbing orthodoxy).

Then the coup de grace, your supplementary claim that you’ve suffered the stress of seeing – which apparently is more than I am capable of - my wedding tackle, the old jolly todger. When said belly couldn’t be contained any longer and shivered the towel down round my ankles. It’s feasible that I might be prepared to overlook all of that, (I mean after all it’s a self-loathing you’ll come to in time, especially as you’re loath to perform any physical activity to stem the genetic tide), were it not for your matchless choice of final metaphor.

An incriminating confluence, of the ensemble of my pubes and so called shrivelled snail, framed against the pallid flesh of my legs, resembling a ‘smll lumpa hsh std i baccy, b4 derizzlas bn rlld up’.

I can only trust that said visual association puts you off smoking, as the textual one has put an end to my custom of wandering around the house, wrapped only in a bath towel."

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