middle of the night. But there was no smoke, no fire, no **** all.
*******s.
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."
better that way.
You'd be just ready to eat them when some Bayern types would arrive and piss all over them.
Smoke alarms are literally the bane of my fücking life. The slightest sear on a steak and the fücking thing goes off. Yesterday we had a plumber in and he had to weld a pipe. You'd have thought the Luftwaffe were overhead from the noise the fücker made. My wife won't let me put clingfilm over them - some shïte about one saving her life once or something.
Mind you, I did a remarkably stupid thing the other day. I was heating the oil in a bun tin for Yorkshire puddings in one of my ovens. Only, rather than switch the oven on, I switched the grill on and shut the door. When I opened the oven door, of course, they all caught fire. I got them to the sink and just remembered in time not to run the tap onto them, instead doing the wet tea towel thing.
Of course, all the while the smoke alarm was helpfully going off to tell me that something was on fire - in case I hadn't noticed.