If I EVER see anything round and hairy skittering about ever again...
...for as long as I live...I will kill it on sight and consider it to be PTSD. True, they're absolutely brilliant for target practice. Nothing better than taking aim at hairy bollocks. But I'd rather like to be done with the little menaces sooner rather than later.
However they got in the house and even made it into the cupboards...I've no bloody idea. I only wanted a fucking piece of toast with jam and some lager this morning, but OH NO, the hairy bollocks got into the bread and I had no toast to go with the morning lager. If I do not get my toast with jam, then the streets are going to run red with something's blood. That's for certain.
So if anyone (who hasn't lived in a cave for the past few days) is still claiming these things are pets? Or is letting their children keep them as pets, OR is a hippy dumbarse like my sis with their 'ooooh they're trilling! it's so calming!' with her cooing codswallop rubbish-speak? Then I'm going to find them, I'm going to repeatedly punch them in the face, and then I will shove a furry bastard right up their arse. Lit on fire.
Except not you, Rommy, because you've had a gut stab during the earthquake. You're exempt. I'll throw things at you, instead.