Our Jack has shown real entrepreneurial spirit and set up his own Chrystal Meth laboratory. He's applied to go on The Apprentice in hope of becoming Sir Alan's new business partner. We're sure he'll do well, he's got a fantastic track record in business. After all he's been dealing dope since he was eight years old.
Our Millicent has been working hard, polishing up her CV to be an ambassador for the United Nations. This will be her 17th child. No cheating like that Angelina Jolie and picking them up second hand. Charles, Patrick, Scott (I always thought that a pretty unimaginative name for the poor wee laddie), Francois, Adolf, Ronald ( named after Regan and McDonalds), Leonardo, Jurek, Papa Doc, Jonah (sadly hates rugby and prefers embroidery instead), Vladimir, Goodluck (hasn't had much recently, but gets released from a Young Offenders Institution in May), Nicolae, Mustapha, Chein-Po, and Kimmi ( I preferred Valteri) are anxiously awaiting the birth of their little sister, Kylie. Reading Borough Council are considering repurposing the Hexagon into housing for them. Millicent has requested they turn the orchestra pit into a birthing pool to save her the annual trek to the Royal Berkshire Hospital. As a forward thinking girl she's already planning her next pregnancy. She's looking for an Egyptian guy, so if any of you know of one, let her know. He doesn't need to commit to anything apart from supplying his you-know-what. In fact even she acknowledges she's looking a bit ropey now, so she's quite happy to use a turkey baster to do the necessary.
Our William has just been promoted to Capo of the waste disposal division of the Reading Mafia. We are so pleased for him, especially as it means we get our rubbish collected weekly, and they even collect our glass recycling! This is a huge relief since with Uncle Bert and Aunt Ethel's drinking, it was getting a bit embarrassing filling up the bottle bank at Asda every time we went - you can only pretend to have so many parties before people get suspicious.....
Little Tommy was hoping to add to his clutch of A* anti social behaviour awards, so he was devastated to hear that ASBOs had been abolished. He was so upset he punched his police escort, and accused the judge of something I think was a bit unlikely, since he must have been about eighty years old, so goodness knows how old his mother would be, unless of course he's into necrophilia. In spite of all that Little Tommy only got a Community Service Order, (B grade) but at least that was better than his mate Freddy, who only got a caution (D grade).
Well, that's about it. I'm off to visit our Mickey, who's on remand in Brixton, awaiting psychiatric reports to prove he isn't a dangerous psychopath, just misunderstood with anger issues. Depending on what happens he'll go to Broadmoor or Wormwood Scrubs. I'm hoping for the scrubs. If he ends up in Broadmoor I'll have to move to be able to visit, as I still don't have my driving licence back, after running a red light whilst driving the getaway car for our Steve's last petrol station hold up. I'm also a bit concerned about putting the house up for sale because the patio that our William's boys laid for me seems to be getting bigger, and is now covering part of our next door neighbours back yard too....
Happy Christmas!!!!!
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