victor and that

now that victor has been booted out of the big brother house my week nights have returned to their familiar 'waiting for friday to come round' normality. i just can't force myself to sit and watch the rest of them twats in there. all they do is comb there hair and say fucking chicken or chick every two minutes. chicken this and chicken fucking that. chicken bollocks. chicken stew! i wouldn't mind but where are the fucking chickens that's what i want to know? there used to be chickens in that house if i remember rightly. i can't even go down the pub. i'm as skint a scouser. don't know why i'm looking foward to friday. i've got not fucking money to go out. i wonder if graham (sisters old man) will do us a borrow.