THERE'S A MOOSE LOOSE ABOOT ME garden. Well, technically it's a rat-grey, about 6", excluding the tail, with a medium build (this is starting to sound like a description on Crimewatch). It was dining on some of my dog's finest excretion and ran away when I opened the door-didn't even pay the bill! We've had to phone the Council because apparently it's illegal to have rats in your garden(?) which I don't understand because it's not like people purposely smuggle rats into their gardens for the pleasure of their company. Unless they're one of those crazy cat ladies, but are too indie for cats and choose to obsess over vermin instead.
[Realistic ghost noise here] It's Halloween! Not that I've got anything to be excited about. Don't go trick-or-treating and never have, "Nar yu not gannin trick-a-treet'n. It's a form ov beggin', man!"-said in broad Geordie accent, dad-style. Also, there's no kids living on my street so nobody comes trick-or-treating. I live on a street full of 80+ year olds, and because of this whenever I hear the phrase 'girl-next-door' I picture a saggy woman with a perm called 'Glenda' or 'Helga' with a wobbly voice. Why does your voice go wobbly when you get old anyway? Does all the jelly you've eaten over your lifetime accumulate?
Now I'm getting tired and hungry so the following might be missing a few verbs:
Hips hurt clicking noise ow, knee creaky ooo hate it, lip spot go boom red, yesterday stingy now burny.