A frosty chill, twinkles on their high-viz jackets as the joyously cheery builders knock four bells out of what used to be the kitchen ceiling.. Abba versus Adel compete with the howling of single bars of festive ditties which are bellowed and echo. Ding dong what a lovely bunch of guys they are.
The earlier part of ones morning was, however, spent with a thwarted feminist and her conciliatory Corleone-esque husband. Two crushed meteorites of unintelligible miserablism. (coo wordy)
Our over-the-net-con(ference) enabled their flamboyant gestures, briefly buffering thither and hither, as their geeky declarations of pre rehearsed, unbridled, need for one-up-man ship/or is that up-one-woman ship? Her bitchy vignettes and his horrifyingly understated retort were wilfully obscurant. (really into wordy now). Only lightened by the wry irony of the howling builders choir gifting a brilliant counterpoint to ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.
Two bare, empty lives caused by pewtered…
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clawingmywayin 