After 2 weeks, obviously Golden Boy has relapsed, and we’re all back walking on eggshells as he walks around the house with his phone on loud live streams to Filipino hookers 10 years his junior.
Another disgusting rant last night about me being a fat sl*t and a c**t, why?
Because he was goading disabled brother whilst drunk, asking him seven times from the kitchen if he was alright?
He doesn’t give a f**k about his wellbeing, he just likes annoying people.
So I shouted into the kitchen ”I think he’s alright”.
His reply: a sarcastic ”Sorry guys”
and then into his smelly little bedroom hiding hole where he slams the doors with a plate full of the food I pay for.
This b@stard can go and f**k himself.
Honestly, I just wish he would hurry up and OD or someone puts him in hospital/jail.
I cannot bear the selfish, dirty animal.
Mummy dearest then starts smiling and giggling with him this morning, and he asks when the NMO will be complete so he can get his place…imagine being so dense that you thinK the premise of an NMO is to get you re-housed? LMAO
He’s got the shock of his petty, limited life when he realises it’s to remove him, not rehouse him.
TRAMP!