Oy! You! Yes you! C'mere!
Has he gone yet?
I only ask, because sometimes it's really difficult being a flower down a coal mine. As if I don't have enough worries!
Oh yeah, I hear you say. Another unsatisfied with his lot in life underachiever...stop right there.
Did you ever devote one single second of your life considering what an uphill struggle it is for a flower in a coal mine to achieve 'photosynthesis'?
But then I wouldn't expect anything else.
I need help here. I'm a witness to a murder. Or at least something close to it. That Welsh bastard has just turned his wife into a pile of shit. Never trusted miners meself. Gobshites one and all, and when they're off duty they look like they're wearing mascara.
Like Boy George.
Me, I'm just stuck down this bastard of a coal mine. So when he fucks off, don't forget me. I'm okay for a plant, really, though I say it myself. I'm not too bad, as far as plants go.
But he's got issues.
I expect he'll emigrate now, to 'Little Swansea Village' in that there New York. I expect he'll start a branch of the Valley Myffia, with Robert De Shearer, and Al Pacramo. The bastard.
He won't worry about me though.
But I'm okay with that.
I remember my spoorhood days on the Buggerall, when I was nobbut a seed.
Now, them pirates - they was a piece of work...