My Head-Shaped Brick


It broke. Last night. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t got another one here in the house. To get another one I’d have to go outside and dig one up from the edge of the parsnip patch, but doing that would leave a gap in the edging and the parsnips might escape and do sick things to the onions. I don’t know what to do and I need to do SOMETHING but the house will fall down if I start dismantling any more walls, and really I don’t want to dismantle the walls that are left, open plan living is WRONG and only RAVING EXTROVERT EXHIBITIONISTS live like that. I don’t know what to do. I need my brick.

Why did it have to break, Dotty? It was forming nicely, a few more weeks of headbanging and I would have got it exactly right, it would have been perfect, THE perfect head-shaped brick, a NORI brick and they’re so hard to come by nowadays I don’t know when I’ll find another. It was only the third one I’d ever had. Somebody must have weakened it at some point in its life, whacked it with something to see if it would break but it didn’t, did it, until NOW you fucking BRICK KILLER whoever you are, some big lumbering maggoty-brained TWAT of a builder-with-arse-cleavage-that-would-scare-a-baboon, go shove your TINGLE PLATE up your nasty arse. That’s the only reason I can think of, it’s been sabotaged, there’s no other way it would have broke like that before it was formed, my bricks last for months, sometimes a year or more, they NEVER EVER break before they’re properly head-shaped even my BROADMOOR brick lasted 9 months and a NORI brick should have pissed on a BROADMOOR brick for durability.




I’m trying to PRACTICE PATIENCE here but it isn’t going well, not well at all. I NEED MY FUCKING BRICK. My Shopping Person won’t be here until Tuesday. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, three days until I can send them to the reclamation yard.

I can’t wait that long.

I have to go into the garden.


Or tonight.

Or at 3.33 am tomorrow morning.

I’m going to go and prepare.

There are things I need and I can’t remember where I put them.

I’ll let you know what happens.

If I make it back.

If I don’t make it back my will is inside the Cumberland sausage that is inside the Snap-n-Click container that is on the BOTTOM shelf of the freezer behind the McCAIN’S CHIPPY CHIPS.

The cause of death will be HEART-A-FUCKING-PANIC-ATTACK.


Or who knows what else.


Think well of me when I’m gone.



%d bloggers like this: