Censoring the census
Grandad April 10th, 2011
Today is the day when we are supposed to fill in that grubby form the gubmint sent us?
I call it grubby because it is. I left it on the window ledge which is one of Sandy’s favourite spots for having a doze. Sandy isn’t renowned for wiping her feet when she comes in from the garden. Heh!
I haven’t decided exactly what I am going to put in the form. Some of it is so fucking obscure that it begs to be messed up. For example – “How is your health in general?” Surely there should be another question prior to this – “Are you a Stoic or a Hypochondriac?” After all, a hypochondriac is going to declare himself as being in miserable health, whether he is or not, whereas the Stoic may be suffering from Terminal Galloping Knob Rot but still say he’s fine?
And what happens if a chap happens to get lucky this evening? Before he gets down to business with his new found piece of fluff, he is going to have to ask her all sorts of questions about her origins, age, religion and crap like that. I would imagine that would be a strong dose of passion killer?
I still haven’t decided what religion I am. At the moment it’s a tossup between “Adorer of the Great White Rabbit” or “Jedi”. Mind you, I would only go with the latter just to piss off “Supershadow”. There again, I may just go with “Nun”, and let them work that out for themselves.
I wonder how they will reconcile the fact that I will be living in a 128 room bedsit and paying my local council 2s 6d a week for the privilege?
I am quite looking forward to this.
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