Urine for it…
When people take the piss, they know they’re taking the piss.
I have probably / definitely taken the piss on countless occasions but, there are different levels of taking the piss. Am I using the word piss a little too much? Maybe that’s cos I’m feeling a little pissy.
I hate people who take the piss. Not the little pissers. We all take little pisses every now and again when we’re grumpy, when we know the person on whom we piss extraordinarily well, the friend or loved one whom we would-piss-off-the-ends-of-the-earth-and-back-for.
Nah, I’m talking about the perpetrators of the great, big, waterfall of a slosh that wakes the whole house, if not the neighbourhood, spraying the walls and leaking through the floorboards in the process. Staining and stinking it’s surrounding so it leaves a sort of yellow-honey mould in its wake. A Jackson Pollock painting featuring only putrid yellow paint. That kind of piss. Pissed by the Big Pissers.
Today, a Big Pisser has taken a piss too many. And I’m not taking their piss lying down. I will gargle and spit their piss right back so they can taste the grapes of their own pissyards. The Big Pissers need to start realising that there’s plenty of piss flying about already in this universe without the need for their daily detritus downpour .
Big Pissers. Please take it outside. Like the rest of us.