Sickipedia

Fucking sick to death of having a foreign doctor. Last week I went in for Botox, came out with a new arse.

There's a dinner lady in the works' canteen who's almost seven foot tall. She's our longest serving employee.

I fucking hate my job, quality control at the strobe-light factory. I'm busy working like a cunt, and everyone else is just fucking standing still.

I was moaning to my neighbour Leroy earlier, about how skint I was and what a struggle it is just to feed my family. "Go down to the food bank." He suggested. "I go there every other day for the free food, as do most of my relatives." So I decided to try it myself, and sure enough, no fucking bananas left.

The fact my son was born severely handicapped, both mentally and physically doesn't phase me in the slightest. I'd fucked off before the second scan.

I honestly don't know how devout Muslims can follow all the rules of the Qur'an. The one in our corner shop can't even follow the rule of 'Multi-pack: not to be sold separately.'

My mate from Liverpool has started working in a local slaughterhouse, stunning the animals. They've never seen a scouser with a job.

I had a massive argument with my son earlier, over how much time he spends on his phone. He called me a cunt, grabbed it from me and locked himself in his room. I really wish I'd confiscated his charger. He fucking hanged himself with it.

"Does this dress make me look fat?" Asked the wife, as she was getting ready to go out. "No, not at all." I replied. "Oh good." She smiled. "As long as I don't look ridiculous." "Hang on." I said. "You didn't fucking ask me that."

I hate when movie franchises have so many sequels, they end up nothing like the original. Take The Xmen, for example.. Fuck all like The Omen.