I was sitting drinking and smoking in the kitchen with two friends last night when another lodger in this house came downstairs.
This guy is named shaun, and he claims to be Jamacian despite being born and bred in Kingston, LONDON, ENGLAND, the same town his mum and dad were born in.
Shaun rarely leaves his room lately, unless he visits the bookies or the 24 hour shop and he usually struggles to get dressed beyond a filthy dressing gown or a pair of old and cheap boxer shorts.
He's whiplash thin, and seems to subsist on a daily meal of two boiled eggs, usually prepared about 2 in the afternoon, right after his one hour daily bath. After this he drinks Nigerian Guinness,Tennents Purple tin or Kestrel Lager.
He has the speech patterns and movement of a crackhead and the bad-taste-bastard has yet to wash anything in three months since he rented his room from us.
All this and the waste still comes down to the kitchen bitching about how some shopkeeper had "pushed" one of his kids and shouted at another.
As he told the story it became evident that his kids and four of their little friends had gone into a sweet shop while roaming the street, as they apparently do during the evenings, before sitting on the owners shelving, playing music on their phones and being rude.
The shopkeeper banged one of them over the ear and forcibly threw them out at which point this tool's daughter went and found a poilce to report the shopkeeper to - and the story went on, and on, and on . . .
He's moralising about how "That shopkeeper had no right to touch my kid" rah, rah, rah and then he said "no adult should ever speak to a kid, no adult should ever discipline a kid that isn't theirs" and "no adult should ever hit a kid"- at which point the rest of us are getting pissed off by the alky scarecrow in the dirty boxers wagging his finger at us and slurring from the corner of the kitchen - and we vehemently disagree.
I told him something like "that attitude will cause more shit than it helps" and my two mates (Nigeria and South Africa) testify about about any adult whipping them if they were fucking around.
Then he said " but P, I know my little girl, I know she's not out theiving shit" when really he don't know shit, because he's a fucking flaky bastard who's not seen her in six months except to hand her some money and fuck off again.
So we said "maybe, or maybe it's a peer thing, maybe they just doing it to see how far they can go" to which he answers "No, No, because I'd whip their asses, and they know it, P"!!!!!!
So I said " But you can't touch kids nowdays, CAN YOU Shaun??"
And said "That's it P"
Stupid Bastard.
That was just one time in five minutes, he contradicted himself about ten more times in succession right then. Fucking agitation.
This guy is named shaun, and he claims to be Jamacian despite being born and bred in Kingston, LONDON, ENGLAND, the same town his mum and dad were born in.
Shaun rarely leaves his room lately, unless he visits the bookies or the 24 hour shop and he usually struggles to get dressed beyond a filthy dressing gown or a pair of old and cheap boxer shorts.
He's whiplash thin, and seems to subsist on a daily meal of two boiled eggs, usually prepared about 2 in the afternoon, right after his one hour daily bath. After this he drinks Nigerian Guinness,Tennents Purple tin or Kestrel Lager.
He has the speech patterns and movement of a crackhead and the bad-taste-bastard has yet to wash anything in three months since he rented his room from us.
All this and the waste still comes down to the kitchen bitching about how some shopkeeper had "pushed" one of his kids and shouted at another.
As he told the story it became evident that his kids and four of their little friends had gone into a sweet shop while roaming the street, as they apparently do during the evenings, before sitting on the owners shelving, playing music on their phones and being rude.
The shopkeeper banged one of them over the ear and forcibly threw them out at which point this tool's daughter went and found a poilce to report the shopkeeper to - and the story went on, and on, and on . . .
He's moralising about how "That shopkeeper had no right to touch my kid" rah, rah, rah and then he said "no adult should ever speak to a kid, no adult should ever discipline a kid that isn't theirs" and "no adult should ever hit a kid"- at which point the rest of us are getting pissed off by the alky scarecrow in the dirty boxers wagging his finger at us and slurring from the corner of the kitchen - and we vehemently disagree.
I told him something like "that attitude will cause more shit than it helps" and my two mates (Nigeria and South Africa) testify about about any adult whipping them if they were fucking around.
Then he said " but P, I know my little girl, I know she's not out theiving shit" when really he don't know shit, because he's a fucking flaky bastard who's not seen her in six months except to hand her some money and fuck off again.
So we said "maybe, or maybe it's a peer thing, maybe they just doing it to see how far they can go" to which he answers "No, No, because I'd whip their asses, and they know it, P"!!!!!!
So I said " But you can't touch kids nowdays, CAN YOU Shaun??"
And said "That's it P"
Stupid Bastard.
That was just one time in five minutes, he contradicted himself about ten more times in succession right then. Fucking agitation.