SHEEEEEES BAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!
Jack Monroe #441 Congratulations on dispatching items you sold
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SHEEEEEES BAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!
No-one ever has just one job in Jackworld, do they?
Frankly I’m amazed any landlord would take her on. Must be getting a hefty, regular income. She’s not writing, wonder what that could be? *side eyes Nigella*
Except Jack who just talks nonsense and shakes her begging bowl.
Is this going to be another bore-the-squigs-into-submission micro-chaos, like the Vienetta one?
Like the cafe that grooms your dog
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Fifteen replies so far. There are some very easily impressed squigs in
Conversation Hell But in order to rent you need proof of income. Friend of mine was buying and selling a house downsizing. She did not work and did not need a mortgage. The sale went thru but the purchase didn’t, she couldn’t rent ended up air bnb.
plus she has CCJ
Uh oh! There's a Tik Tok beef rinser all up in Jack's niche.
New from Nigella & The Flying Monkeys:
Verse 1:
Jack Monroe, a name that rings true
Standing up for what they know is right
A voice for the poor, a voice for the weak
Fighting for a world that's just and fair
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
Verse 2:
From the council flats to the halls of power
Jack Monroe's message echoes loud and clear
No more poverty, no more despair
We'll build a world that's free from fear
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
Bridge:
With a guitar in hand and a heart full of hope
Jack Monroe sings a song of change
We'll follow their lead, and together we'll stand
For a world that's free, and a future that's grand
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
Verse 1:
Jack Monroe, a name that rings true
Standing up for what they know is right
A voice for the poor, a voice for the weak
Fighting for a world that's just and fair
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
Verse 2:
From the council flats to the halls of power
Jack Monroe's message echoes loud and clear
No more poverty, no more despair
We'll build a world that's free from fear
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
Bridge:
With a guitar in hand and a heart full of hope
Jack Monroe sings a song of change
We'll follow their lead, and together we'll stand
For a world that's free, and a future that's grand
Chorus:
Jack Monroe, a hero of the people
A light in the darkness, shining bright
We'll stand with you, and together we'll fight
For a better tomorrow, side by side
She just rinses hoops and pensioners.
And if Patreon as a company goes bits up... ??
I love that someone's inexplicably told Jack about their newborn grandchild in response to the festive pie chat. Tis the season indeed.
It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.
Gadzooks Muthafukkas! crappy content incoming...
Custard and Mincemeat sounds slopfuckintastic!
Gadzooks! Is surely the festive TootToot! (All definitions are interchangeable dearhearts
...)
Custard and Mincemeat sounds slopfuckintastic!
Gadzooks! Is surely the festive TootToot! (All definitions are interchangeable dearhearts
...)
Hang on, I thought she was downsizing to a one bedroomed flat, like a poor pixie? Surely all that performative furniture giving away and boxing up wasn’t…just for content?
Jack's shark eyes flicking over the infant for a christening bangle they could flog and send the proceeds to Jack.
I'll believe it when I see it, and I'm already waiting for the "oh noes, my patrons didn't receive my postcards, they must have been lost in the post" tweet.I wish I hadn’t nommed it now! I feel it gives a validity to her claim of posting the items, which it doesn’t yet deservetweet if you’ve received a postcard Squiggo’s!
Why on earth would she choose to post TWO YEARS' worth of postcards and stuff in the busiest time of the year for RM, with strikes on top? She's two years late, she could have waited until January.
Warm up your goose large, we’re headed for Griftmas Present, with a special guest celebrity cameo. Please enjoy A Griftmas Carol Part 4.
Slops’ fitful sleep was disturbed once again by the chiming of the clock. She sat up, wondering what on earth the next spirit would show her.
A deep and jolly laugh resounded from beyond the chamber door and, although Slops was still somewhat afraid, she could not help but allow a small smile to grace her lips as the laugh was so warm and joyous. Slops opened the chamber door and stared in wonder, for heaped up on the floor were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In amongst all this, to form a sort of throne were piles of perfectly roasted potatoes, each one glistening in its crisp skin.
Atop this potato throne sat a giant of a man in black and white checked trousers and a pristine white coat. His bald head gleamed, his round rosy cheeks glowed and his eyes sparkled as he beckoned Slops in with another resounding chuckle. “Come in, come in and know me better.”
Slops tentatively entered the room, awestruck at the feast before her. Never before had she seen food like it, neither sloppy like gruel, nor solid like an over cooked loaf, but succulent and crisp and filling the room with a thousand delectable scents.
“Come in,” repeated the spirit. “I am the Ghost of Griftmas Present, although those close to me may call me Fingers. Would you like a potato?”
“No, thank you,” replied Slops, admiring the spirit’s handsome clothing.
“Well,” said the spirit, placing his hands on his knees and rising to his full height which reached the very ceiling of Slop’s house, “we have much to see and the day grows short.”
“What shall we see?” asked Slops, eager to understand what the spirit would show her.
“Why, it is Christmas Day, of course. We shall see the celebrations of Christmas.”
Slops was unconvinced but uttered her, “Humbug. Toot toot,” quietly, under her breath, so that the spirit might not hear it.
The spirit led Slops outside into the snowy streets of Southend, where many a reveller was preparing for a Christmas spent with friends and family.
Inside a festive ale house, a small group of friends were celebrating. “Here’s to you,” one woman said to another, “And may the new year bring you peace.”
“Oh,” cried Slops. “That’s my old agent, Rosemary. And my landlady. And there’s CarolineWhoHasHands. I didn’t know they were friends.”
Slops watched the group exchange gifts and laugh together, wondering why she had never attended any of the Christmas drinks her agent had invited her to. They were having such a jolly time.
Rosemary raised her glass to make a toast and the others quietened down. “I would just like to say,” Rosemary began, “That the last few years have been hard toil, as we all know. But the future is looking brighter for us all now we have all cut ties — or almost done so —“ She looked at the landlady. “With Jackenezer Slops. May our years be long and our days free of Slops!”
Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses. Slops was silent for a moment.
“Perhaps we might see some other Christmas celebrations now,” Slops suggested to the spirit, who had produced a large roast potato from his pocket and was eating it like an apple. “This one has left a slightly sour taste in my mouth.”
“Indeed, indeed, my time grows short,” agreed the spirit through a mouthful of potato, and soon they were walking through a rather drearier part of town.
“What place is this?” asked Slops, shocked at the true poverty signified by the damp walls and meagre portions enjoyed by those within.
“This is Patrons’ Alley,” the spirit replied. “All who live here are your Patrons, although not all of your Patrons live here.”
Slops stared in wonderment for she did indeed have many Patrons who supplied a considerable stipend for her every month. She had never really considered who they were or what their own lives were like.
Slops and the spirit watched through the windows of one house where warmth and love and Christmas cheer filled every inch from the mismatched chairs to the threadbare carpets. “How can they be so cheerful when they have so little?” Slops remarked.
“To many, the true meaning of Christmas is time with loved ones and gifts of time and charity,” explained the spectre. “They do not have much, but what they do have they share.”
“I do not think I ever understood that,” said Slops, thoughtfully. “But their joy and companionship is clear, even though they want for so much.”
“My time here is almost at an end,” the spirit said. “One more ghost yet remains.”
The town clock began to strike midnight and a chill wind whipped through Slops’ hair as the figure before her grew fainter and fainter.
“Spirit, wait!” she cried. “I think I understand now.”
But the spirit was gone and Slops was alone
A deep and jolly laugh resounded from beyond the chamber door and, although Slops was still somewhat afraid, she could not help but allow a small smile to grace her lips as the laugh was so warm and joyous. Slops opened the chamber door and stared in wonder, for heaped up on the floor were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In amongst all this, to form a sort of throne were piles of perfectly roasted potatoes, each one glistening in its crisp skin.
Atop this potato throne sat a giant of a man in black and white checked trousers and a pristine white coat. His bald head gleamed, his round rosy cheeks glowed and his eyes sparkled as he beckoned Slops in with another resounding chuckle. “Come in, come in and know me better.”
Slops tentatively entered the room, awestruck at the feast before her. Never before had she seen food like it, neither sloppy like gruel, nor solid like an over cooked loaf, but succulent and crisp and filling the room with a thousand delectable scents.
“Come in,” repeated the spirit. “I am the Ghost of Griftmas Present, although those close to me may call me Fingers. Would you like a potato?”
“No, thank you,” replied Slops, admiring the spirit’s handsome clothing.
“Well,” said the spirit, placing his hands on his knees and rising to his full height which reached the very ceiling of Slop’s house, “we have much to see and the day grows short.”
“What shall we see?” asked Slops, eager to understand what the spirit would show her.
“Why, it is Christmas Day, of course. We shall see the celebrations of Christmas.”
Slops was unconvinced but uttered her, “Humbug. Toot toot,” quietly, under her breath, so that the spirit might not hear it.
The spirit led Slops outside into the snowy streets of Southend, where many a reveller was preparing for a Christmas spent with friends and family.
Inside a festive ale house, a small group of friends were celebrating. “Here’s to you,” one woman said to another, “And may the new year bring you peace.”
“Oh,” cried Slops. “That’s my old agent, Rosemary. And my landlady. And there’s CarolineWhoHasHands. I didn’t know they were friends.”
Slops watched the group exchange gifts and laugh together, wondering why she had never attended any of the Christmas drinks her agent had invited her to. They were having such a jolly time.
Rosemary raised her glass to make a toast and the others quietened down. “I would just like to say,” Rosemary began, “That the last few years have been hard toil, as we all know. But the future is looking brighter for us all now we have all cut ties — or almost done so —“ She looked at the landlady. “With Jackenezer Slops. May our years be long and our days free of Slops!”
Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses. Slops was silent for a moment.
“Perhaps we might see some other Christmas celebrations now,” Slops suggested to the spirit, who had produced a large roast potato from his pocket and was eating it like an apple. “This one has left a slightly sour taste in my mouth.”
“Indeed, indeed, my time grows short,” agreed the spirit through a mouthful of potato, and soon they were walking through a rather drearier part of town.
“What place is this?” asked Slops, shocked at the true poverty signified by the damp walls and meagre portions enjoyed by those within.
“This is Patrons’ Alley,” the spirit replied. “All who live here are your Patrons, although not all of your Patrons live here.”
Slops stared in wonderment for she did indeed have many Patrons who supplied a considerable stipend for her every month. She had never really considered who they were or what their own lives were like.
Slops and the spirit watched through the windows of one house where warmth and love and Christmas cheer filled every inch from the mismatched chairs to the threadbare carpets. “How can they be so cheerful when they have so little?” Slops remarked.
“To many, the true meaning of Christmas is time with loved ones and gifts of time and charity,” explained the spectre. “They do not have much, but what they do have they share.”
“I do not think I ever understood that,” said Slops, thoughtfully. “But their joy and companionship is clear, even though they want for so much.”
“My time here is almost at an end,” the spirit said. “One more ghost yet remains.”
The town clock began to strike midnight and a chill wind whipped through Slops’ hair as the figure before her grew fainter and fainter.
“Spirit, wait!” she cried. “I think I understand now.”
But the spirit was gone and Slops was alone
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