Trying To Trap The Demon In Dotty’s Attic (It Isn’t An Attic, It’s A LOFT But Attic Sounds Better)

 

Last night I set some traps to try and catch the DEMON in my loft, but before I set the traps I had to find the correct protective clothing to protect me, namely –

MY GAS MASK — to prevent me from INHALING THE DEMON

MY PROTECTIVE ALL-IN-ONE SUIT THAT FORENSIC BOFFINS AND CHEMICAL DISASTER BODS WEAR — to prevent me from ABSORBING THE DEMON

MY GOOD, STURDY HIKING BOOTS THAT I HAVEN’T WORN FOR YEARS — to STOMP ON THE DEMON or to KICK THE DEMON if the need arose.

 

So, suitably dressed, I set about laying my traps —

First, I substituted all my Cumberland sausages for the LINDA McCARTNEY VEGETARIAN SHITE SAUSAGES I’d cleverly and cunningly ordered from the online 24 hr Tesco (that is one BIG Tesco – the shop must be the size of Ireland!) and that I had delivered yesterday afternoon (Branwell answered the door).

Next, I substituted all my Hobnobs for ROUND RYVITAS (HA HA HA HA) that were also delivered from online 24 hr Tesco.

Then, I went upstairs and sat on the floor directly below the LOFT HATCH. I crossed my legs like a proper YOGI, stretched my arms into the air and touched the tips of my fingers together to make myself into a TRIANGLE and I sat there all night EXUDING GOODNESS. I exuded such great amounts of GOODNESS the house nearly floated away. I couldn’t believe I had that much GOODNESS in me, (it isn’t there now, it’s gone, I exuded it all out), SHEDLOADS of GOODNESS that I aimed up into the air, through the loft hatch and INTO THE DEMON.

It didn’t work. At least it didn’t bring the DEMON out of the loft – BUT, while I was being a TRIANGLE, exuding GOODNESS, the DEMON started singing. It sang –

 

“I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me.

HE’S JUST A POOR BOY, FROM A POOR FAMILY,

SPARE HIM HIS LIFE FROM THESE QUORN SAUSAGES.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

BISMILLAH! NO! WE WILL NOT LET YOU GO!

Let me go!

BISMILLAH! WE WILL NOT LET YOU GO!

Let me go!

BISMILLAH! WE WILL NOT LET YOU GO!

Let me go!

WILL NOT LET YOU GO!

Let me go!

NOT LET YOU GO!

Let me go-0-0-0-0-0-!

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go!

Beelzebub has a devil in the sideboard – me! – poor me – poor meeeeeeee…”

 

Now, I need to tell you something about HOW he was singing – he was singing in TONGUES and one of the tongues (the red bits) was MINE – and what I want to know is HOW THE FUCK DID HE DO THAT? It sounded like Demon Duelling Banjos with words, him-me-him-me-him-me but my mouth didn’t move AT ALL, it stayed WIDE OPEN all the time I was there (to exude GOODNESS) and anyway I was wearing my GAS MASK and the way I’d put it on over my WIDE OPEN MOUTH meant there was no way on this earth that I COULD have closed my mouth, it was STUCK OPEN and no one can sing with a STUCK OPEN WIDE OPEN MOUTH unless they’re some sort of genius ventriloquist and there aren’t any genius ventriloquists, you can ALWAYS see movement. 

But last night wasn’t a COMPLETE waste – he’s given away his EXACT LOCATION in my loft. He’s living in the old sideboard that belonged to Granny Euphemia and when Granny Euphemia died she left it to my dear dead Daddy and when my dear dead Daddy died he left it to me but I don’t like it, it’s fuck ugly and riddled with woodworm (HA! I just wrote WORMWOOD instead of WOODWORM because I’m so used to writing WORMWOOD. I changed it). Also, it looks as if maybe I’m starting to get to him a bit, disconcert the little fucker. But he’s a stubborn one. This morning I’ve been back to online 24 hr Tesco to order more AMMO. Here’s a list of the ammo I’ve ordered —

more LINDA McCARTNEY VEGETARIAN QUORN CARDBOARD SAUSAGES

more ROUND RYVITAS

mothballs

rat poison

6 bottles of Domestos – kills all known germs. DEAD

caustic soda

some apples (they worked on Eve)

a fishing net

12 bottles of Harrogate Spring Water (online 24 hr Tesco don’t sell Holy Water)

And I was thinking of ordering a copy of Fifty Shades of Shite so the DEMON would get the impression I’ve read it, but nope, I couldn’t do it, a little voice in my head kept arguing with itself –

DEMON?/Shadey Shite? 

DEMON?/Shadey Shite?

DEMON?/Shadey Shite?

and the DEMON won.

 

So now it’s a waiting game. A battle of wills. Dark versus light, good versus bad (erm, which side am I on?), saintliness versus evil. Dotty versus Demon.  

BRING IT ON, FUCKER. NO ONE BEATS DOTTY. NO ONE AND NO THING. NOTHING.

 

 

 

 

N.B. — In case it’s gone unnoticed, you should take note that I’ve used the word ‘versus’ and not the abbreviation of the word ‘versus’ which should be a small ‘v’ but is now usually shown as a capital letter when, for example, a football match is being advertised —

LIVERPOOL V EVERTON

Not only is the word ‘versus’ abbreviated to an incorrect capital ‘v’, it’s also SPOKEN as the letter ‘v’ (vee) by STUPID ILLITERATE SLOPEY-BROWS ON THE TELLY —

LIVERPOOL VEE EVERTON

Ah, fuck it – I might just keep the DEMON and get him to spew some vile bile and brimstone over ALL THE STUPID PEOPLE.

 

 

Posted by Dotty Headbanger on August 30, 2012

https://dottyheadbanger.wordpress.com/2012/08/30/trying-to-trap-the-demon-in-dottys-attic-it-isnt-an-attic-its-a-loft-but-attic-sounds-better/