The Morning After Ex-Simon’s Birthday Party And I Think I’ve Killed Branwell


He isn’t breathing. His face is white and he hasn’t got a pulse. We played Dare last night and I won. 


I can’t do the hammer-on-the-knees reflex test because he’s lying on the kitchen floor with his legs in the cupboard under the sink and he’s knocked over all the cleaning products – his pant legs are soaked in Fairy Liquid (Lemon flavour, I don’t like the others, they stink).

I’ll try banging my ladle on the arse end of my big stew pot, next to his ear.



fucking hell, these earplugs are shite.


WAKE UP BRANWELL, YOUR DINNER’S READY. It isn’t really but he loves his food.


Nope, nothing.


I’ll put an onion in his eye! Hang on while I slice a bit off.

He’s got crusty bits of sleep on his eyelashes –

– I’ll open the lids with my teabag squeezer—

eeeeeeewwwwww! His eyeball looks like a DEAD FISH EYE!


Bollocks. What am I going to tell little Emily?

‘Sorry, little Emily, I’ve accidentally killed your brother.’

Uh-uh, I don’t think so.


I know, I’ll sing him a song.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight?




Fucking neighbours. STOP BANGING. FUCK OFF.


A hymn – that should annoy him. 

I only know one hymn and I’ve sung it before on my blog.

Ah, fuck it, everyone does reblogs of their own stuff, don’t they?






Aha! That did it, he’s shuddering!








He’s gone home now and he’s not dead – well, he IS dead but you know what I mean. He’s got a VERY BAD HANGOVER, which I don’t have because I don’t drink alcohol as I’ve already said many times before – I stuck to drinking Absinthe but Branwell also necked the rum and the gin he keeps in his hipflasks.

We had a fine old time of it last night, it’s the best party I’ve been to for years (it’s the only one, but so what, it’s still the best). I might do it again for MY birthday which is in a couple of weeks or so – just to let you know, I’m accepting all cards and presents from NOW.

Oh, before I go – I spoke to Branwell about little Emily. He’s going to bring her to see me this afternoon. He said nothing about why she’s stayed away for such a long time so I dont’ know if she’s in a neck-wringer of a mood with me or what’s up with her, but I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. One thing he said has been puzzling me though – he said ‘Do you truly wish to see her again? Truly, Dotty?’

Why did he ask me that?



Leave a comment


  1. the howler and me

     /  July 4, 2012

    Parties have a way of lifting the spirits…
    I wonder what happened to Little Emily to make Branwell say that… is she now dead and a vampire or something?

  2. Dear Dotty,

    You don’t suppose Kumblant has were-zompified Little Emily, do you?

    xoxo Mme Weebles

  3. Dorothy

     /  July 4, 2012

    Dear Dotty,
    Glad that Branwell isn’t dead. I can’t take another death. You must throw one Hell of a party to bring a grown man to the floor and practically kill him….lol.
    Love Dorothy

  4. I think I should slow down when I read cuz I thought I read something about you putting a ladle up his arse and thought I better reread that sentence. LOLLLLLLLLLLL

  5. Absinthe *is* alcohol, dear Dotty. Denial won’t make it otherwise.

    • Dear Angel,

      No it isn’t – it’s like apple juice, packed with vitamins and minerals and all other things planty, except it’s wormwood juice, healthy juice of the wormwood plant. 🙂

      Love Dotty xxx

  6. Absolutely bonkers, as always… 😛

  7. Dear Dotty,

    Maybe little Emily is a little jealous that you’re spending time with Branwell — I don’t think it totally balled up to think she might feel that way, but I think that if you think that little Emily is jealous, because she thinks you spend to much time with her brother, whom you almost killed, like you did your ex-husband, exSimon — Hopefully you guys can laugh about that. I have family I’d like to send to your house, so they can eat Cumberlaudanum (sp?) sandwiches and drink laudanum in their tea — just joking, I’d only send one of my siblings for your treatment! 😎



    • Dear Judith,

      I’d welcome your sibling with open arms – well, not with open arms because that would mean TOUCHING A PERSON and I don’t do touching alive people because they’re germy. But I’d feed the person and treat them as well as I treat ALL my guests as long as they did as they were told at all times.

      i don’t know what’s going on with little Emily, it’s definitely strange. I’m debating whether or not to do a post about it.

      Love Dotty xxx

  8. This does remind me of an pleasant evening at my sister’s a year or so ago. I had a glass (or seven) of grape juice, went to the tiny loo mid-evening, fely an uncontrollable urge to curl up on the floor among the bottles of Harpic etc, vaguely aware of murmurings outside now and then, and finally emerged four hours later, feeling a bit woozy and ready for my bed. Sensible big sister had let me sleep it off (I think she found the snores reassuring) and happily didn’t resort to saucepan banging!

  9. You seem to be just a little prone to murdering people. Or at least killing them in one fashion or another. This makes me nervous about become your new butler, just so you know.


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