I really don’t like to be rude, but do you think you could just bugger off?
Perhaps you took the ingestion of your bug by my youngest daughter to be an invitation to our home, but you were sadly mistaken. I feel the need to point out that she is one, and so has no invitory (if that’s a word) powers as far as I am concerned.
You really should check these things before making yourself at home.
Although I do appreciate the fact that your presence guaranteed an extra day off for the Boatman, I do not like how it has forced me to examine, at close range, just how dirty the inside of my toilet bowl is. Particularly when I have no power to clean it, because you are around, stealing all my concentration.
And whilst I have now got out of doing mountain loads of washing because wonderful husband has done them for me, I would gladly have done it myself, if you had let me get out of bed before midday.
Dear Gastro, it really annoys me at how high maintenance you are; you take all of my attention. Regardless of whether you are occupying my Children, or myself, it seems that whilst you stay, my life is consumed by vomit.
There are many other things that I would rather have my life consumed by.
Such as blogging.
Gastro, did you know that because of your spontaneous, and unwelcome arrival, my last two blog posts have been about you? This does not make me happy. You are causing me to whinge, and I really do not like to whinge. Nor, do others like to hear (or read, as the case may be), me whinge.
Furthermore, you have confused all my brain cells, so I am unable to write the post I really wanted to.
Also, I am totally stealing ideas from Daisy now, by writing a letter to you. Hopefully, because Daisy is so much cooler that you, she will forgive me, but if she doesn’t, I hope you know that this is all your fault!
You are seriously not making yourself any friends. Keep this up, and I highly doubt anyone else will be inviting you to stay.
You are your own worst enemy.
Gastro, because of you, I have missed three social engagements in the last two days. Albeit, one of these was a nine year old’s birthday party, but I am a stay at home mummy. I take what I can. I suspect that you were secretly trying to infiltrate all my friends, but I have ruined your dastardly plan. If we are not better in the morning Gastro, rest assured, we will not be taking you to play group.
Finally Gastro, on your way down the toilet bowl, I would like you to look at your surroundings, and contemplate where you are. The sewer is not a nice place; nor are my insides. To be honest, there is no good place for you at all; you should really just curl up in the sun and die. And please take your friends, hay fever, cold and flu, and ridiculous lady problems with you.
Goodbye Gastro. I wish I could say it had been fun while it lasted, but it hasn’t. You’re not the best company.
Sorry if that hurts.
All the best on your trip down the dunny,