16 January 2012


This is Darren. He's the TV license inspector man who's been writing to me these past eight months or so. I have to admit, I haven't read his letters.

He didn't like me taking this picture of him for some reason. Possibly because he's worried some people he knows might find out what he does for a living. Because as we all know, it is possibly to die of shame. It's why there's no old people on regional radio stations.

So anyway, I'm home from the big house. It's not gone well to be fair and this was the last thing I needed. What I wanted was a meatball sammich and a since snooze. I got a TV license poker abouter instead.

He probably thought I couldn't talk cause I felt guilty. No..the joke was on him. I was just trying not to wet myself from fatigue. Joke's on you you silly coont.

Anyway, I don't have a TV, but that still isn't good enough for them. "I'll put you down for a visit this time next sir OK?" says Darren. Ha..you do that fella. It won't be me that answers the door. Hee Hee. Oh, fook.

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