A Tired Wee Wuman

There was this tired looking wuman that worked in the offy that sold buckie tae the school weans. Jesus she was scunnered wae her shite life. Thought aboot ending it awe the time. If it wisnae fir her two wee cats she would have years ago.

She was jist about tae sell a wee half bottle tae a boy that looked aboot ten when the buckie spoke.

“Here, hen. Fuck off! Ave no spent ma life maturing intae the perfect bottle ae tonic wine tae be selt tae a wean n whiteied up wae a back a chips an hour later. Gee the wee wank a White Lightening.”

“Shut yir hole and get in the bag!”

“Naw!”

“Three quid, son.” she said tae the wee boy. “Dae ye want any ciggies tae go wae it?”

“That’s it! Am calling the polis,” the buckie screamed.

So the half bottle ae buckie called the polis and within ten seconds they burst in and the shop was shut forever! The wuman was subsequently carted aff straight tae the jail fir selling alcohol tae minors. Nae trial was needed.

“Ma cats! Somebdy needs tae look efter ma cats.”

“Fuck yer cats, hen. Dae we look like vets?” the polisman said, tanning that grass half bottle ae wine in wan go. “If yir lucky al shoot them after a rob yir hoose.”

But it wisnae awe bad news. Muirhead’s finest gee her a len ae a rope in her cell and she successfully hung hersel.

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