TO THE ICKITY MR. LOVETT FROM HERTFORDSHIRE
It has come to my attention that you don’t wish to have anything to do with people from your Zepp days unless it is under very “special circumstances.” Well, please rest assured that, on my part at least, the feeling is entirely mutual. When I first met you, I really did like you, but being around you for two weeks completely changed that!
You took an hour to cook hot dogs!
You sniveled and snarked like a teenage fangirl because Robert Plant snubbed you at an autograph session the year before!
You got preachy and philosophical when I threw a square of lasagna away. “Waste not, want not,” you said in a preachy tone, as if you were my father!
You implied that Jimmy being a mason was tantamount to him being in the Illuminati or something!
When I accidently shut a seat belt buckle in your car door, you sneered, “Is it damaged?”
Your attitude in Wales entirely sucked!
You nit-picked over twelve pounds for groceries after my husband and I had already paid probably more than our fair share of everything!
You pissed and moaned every time we asked you to take us to do laundry!
You painstakenly piddled and farted in everything you did. The only time you seemed to be in any sort of a hurry was when you got us into that traffic jam (which I think you did on purpose), and it really made me sick that your wife thought it was oh, so cute!
But I could have overlooked it, all of it, if you had only kept your FUCKING, NASTY ASS FINGER OUT OF YOUR GODDAMMED NOSE, which is probably the real reason Robert Plant refused to shake your hand to begin with!
Knowing you has scarred me, scarred me for life, in ways you cannot begin to fathom.
Ick!