The Punchbowl Girl wasn't in work today and much as we've been banging away I don't even have her mobile number, a thing to rectify soon.
Yesterday after work I was walking up Shaftsbury Square when I bumped into Good King Thumpo. He was asking me where he could get a cheap camera. I asked him why and he said that he was looking to make his own snuff movies because he can't find decent snuff anywhere. He's tried St. George's Market, Nutts Corner, that place in the Smithfield. Fucking nowhere does it. He says he knows he can't be the only one who wants it so he's going to exploit a niche in the market that will save his balls and feed him and Ma Mutt when the tories cut his benefits. Posh bastards.
He says that he was thinking of kidnapping some of those wee indie fruits that hang around in Charlies Coffee Shop but he'd a better idea and now he'll try and get a foreigner because no one will miss them and that it's hard to prove snuff is actually snuff and not just mates dicking around, especially because he'll be laughing in the film so much. He says there was some zombie movie where the director killed people and got away with it in court because he'd killed foreigners. I think he's got the whole story arse about face but I can't remember the name of it. Anyways if I hear of him making it this could be the first and only time I'll shop someone to the cops.
