Cwis is threatening to move back in with me if he gets sacked from the BBC and has to go back on the fucking dole and I can't be arsed with that coz he always blows all of his giro in one day and then spends the rest of the week moaning every time I give him one of my balled-up-tissues-in-a-yoghurt-pot for dinner like a right fuss pot. Last time he lived with me he had so many bonkers habits that I had to move out and stay with my mate Jim Flute which was a fucking nightmare because Jim's an eel and I can only hold my breathe for about 45 seconds at a time so I couldn't catch a wink of sleep.
Here's a list of his bad habits that did my head in and meant that I didn't get any sleep for about 2 years...

  1. He used to leave his hair straighteners on and after he almost burned the place down, instead of making extra sure to switch them off, he used to keep them dangling above a bowl of milk which didn't really do anything except make the place smell of knackered old milk.
  2. He collects fridge-freezers. He collects them like they're fucking stamps or Panini stickers though so he's got absolutely hundreds of the cunts which is a totally bullshit thing to collect and a complete waste of space, especially when you live in a bin.
  3. He used to wait until I was asleep and then superglue loads of bubble wrap onto me and then film me running about trying to gnaw it off and then he'd send the footage into Newsnight and then when they did't broadcast it, which they obviously never did, he'd go into a really dark depression for a few days and start drinking. It was pretty fucked up.
  4. He had a pet frog called William O'Shaughnessy who was quite funny but had tourettes which meant he used to wake me up every night shouting the words 'Finger Buffet' at the top of his lungs. 
  5. He used to invite Michaela Strachan over and then show her photo's he'd taken of my disgraceful ball bags even though he knew I fancied her and thought she was as fit as arseholes.
  6. He used to have Nutkins coming over every Tuesday for 'band practice' and they'd stay up until about 10am writing progressive techno songs about puffins and shit. They thought they were the bollocks but they only ever had one gig headlining at the 'Shrewsbury Marmalade and Chutney Festival 92'. Here's a picture...

I could go on but let's just all sign this and make sure he can carry on jabbering on about worms and that on prime time television and spare me the fucking bother...