Sunday 07 May 2017 – If Postman Pat Wrote A Blog.

I woke up this morning with a bar mat stuck to my face, vomit acting as glue.  The last thing I remember is dropping off the phallus-shaped parcel to our local copper, Arthur Selby.  Must be a new service truncheon issue; not sure why the sender email was; but I digress.  I promised Sara I would stop drinking, but when the local offers you a few pints on the cheap, I can’t say no.  AA meetings help, but I can’t turn down a cheeky jäger party!  

I had a quick sink wash in the kitchen, after I managed to peel myself from the sofa (and ripped the beer mat off my face).  I threw on my work clothes, gave them a quick spray of Febreeze to hide the sick smell and laced up my shoes.  Had one quick look at my reflection in the microwave, and removed the little strip of beer mat that hadn’t come off fully.  

Sara come downstairs with a face like thunder, and I gave her a mixed look of apology and “it was worth it”.  My son, Julian was next to greet me and he just shook his head.  Little shit what did he know!  My family doesn’t like me much at the minute, I realised; but I knew Jess would be happy to see me.  I had a sliver of dry toast to soak the jäger up, and I was on my way to the office.  I was just about to tweet out how fucked I was from last night, and Ben from the sorting office called.  It was just a matter of time because I’m late, and I’m already on my second warning.  I’m not fazed though, he won’t find another mug to do this shit job.  Once Ben had finished chewing me, he informed me about the special delivery I had to take to Chris Beakon in the lighthouse.  

I was shitting my pants at this point because I could barely keep this shitting van straight. I’d have to take the helicopter now to get the parcel to him on time!  Hopefully Arthur is off duty today, playing with his new truncheon…  if not, I get locked up. Simples, but I won’t go without a fight, or a drink! 

Jess was meowing it large about how I shouldn’t drink when I know I’ve got work the next day, blah, blah, blah… and with a swift “fuck off Jess, unless you want that cheap cat food in the future!” – she went back to licking her arse.  

Luckily, the lighthouse job was cancelled because of bad weather, so I went to see how Arthur was getting on with the new beat stick.  I turned up to his house and the curtains were drawn.  Odd I thought, he is normally rigid with little things like that.  I managed to peek in through the side window, and he was hammering that new 12″ throbbing “truncheon” up Mrs. Goggins!  

Shaken by what I’d witnessed, I made a move to the pub.  AA meeting was on at 6PM.  I’m not making that.  Cheers!


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