A boggling bet
Grandad November 4th, 2010
I like the odd bet.
Last night I was chatting to a friend, and she bet me that I couldn’t use the word ‘boggles’ on this site.
Of course I accepted the bet as the odd tenner comes in handy.
It was only a while later that I realised what a corner I had painted my self into.
I mean to say – who in their right mind would use the word ‘boggles’? It’s a fucking stupid word. It’s the kind of word that would be used by tweedy old dears as they sip their afternoon tea. It is not the kind of word I would use in the course of normal conversation.
I suppose I could have written about how the mind boggles at the sheer neck of our Gubmint, but I would be more inclined to just talk about how our Gubmint has a neck like a jockey’s bollox, as the use of the word ‘boggles’ just doesn’t quite cut the mustard somehow.
I spent the morning trying to think up a subject where I could slip ‘boggles’ in under the radar as it were, but I just couldn’t think of anything. So the Gubmint have been forced by the Constitution to hold an election? That is boring rather than boggling. So a DJ had a quick bash of the bishop on a flight from London to Cork? So what? I have enough wankers to talk about in the Gubmint without humiliating a poor DJ, and again I can’t think where I could slip a ‘boggles’ in there.
Fuckit, but it looks like I have lost the bet.
That’s a rarity.
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