Bob Marley

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Its like sharing a house with Larry Grayson. The idiot is camper than a row of tents. Fifty years old and he thinks he’s still trendy, when all he is, is embarrassing. Gary’s coming around tonight, his latest shag bag and the idiot is making dinner. They met online at Gays’r’Us five month ago. Gays’r’us, fucking should be renamed sad old gits are us. Losers.

“Will you turn that racket down, puleeze?”

God he’s off on one again. Rolling his eyes, hands on hips, typical, bloody drama queen. He doesn’t like the fact that Silvia and Kieran in the flat above still have enough time left to enjoy life. They go clubbing every weekend, sometimes all weekend. Larry Grayson there, he goes to the his gay club once a month, or grab a ‘Granny’, or ‘Grandad’ in his case.

“Music, that’s no music, we know what music is. Don’t we Donny?”

I’m named after someone called Donny Osmond. Lover boys first crush. Apparently, the first person he wanked to while dreaming about him. I heard him tell Gary one night they were playing truth or dare.

‘By the way tube, lets have less of the we when you talk about tastes in music, and another thing, just in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a dog you fucking moron.’

What a fucking idiot, he thinks I actually care what he thinks, and, and, he actually believes I’m his friend. ‘Get this asshole, I can’t fucking stand you!’

"Whaaaats wrong sweety-pie, do you want a little Scooby-snack, is daddies cooking making you hungry? I hope Gary’s hungry, do you think he’ll like tender steak. Oh my god, what if he’s a vegetarian? I should have asked. Too late, I cant change it now. What do you think."

See what I mean! He’s fucking crackers. Loopy-lou. ‘Stick your ‘scooby snacks up your arse.’

He’d probably enjoy that, fucking poofter. Gary a vegetarian? I would imagine Gary eats beef every fucking night.

"Daddies going in the bath sweetheart. You behave. I wont be long."

"Take as long as you like. Fucking drown for all I care."

He’ll come out smelling like an accident at a perfume factory. He does it to hide his chronic wind problem. That’s why he bought me, he needed someone to blame for it, someone who couldn’t argue.

I’m away for a fucking sleep, its going to be a long fucking night listening to those two. All they talk about is curtains, clothes, Will Young and ornaments for fuck sake. They’ll get merry on the wine, pop a fucking Viagra each and dance to fucking poxy Abba. Then they’ll go to bed for a shag. Gary, he’ll go home, the drama queen will cry all night. Because he wants more commitment. The two clubbers up the stair come in at six in the morning, shag till fucking nine or ten, and in between all this I’m supposed to get a fucking kip. I’m fucking sick of it, I swear to god, I’m fucking sick to the back teeth. If that Gary asks me for a paw again tonight I’ll bite his fucking hand off, fucking smarmy git.

I can oly hope that one day I'll be Emancipated. Bob Marley, now thats my kina fucking music.