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The right of any woman to own as many cats as she bloody wants, no matter how much her long-suffering man bitch might object.
I have to get up at 5am every day to amuse 22 loud moggies, while she stays in bed snoring. Bloody universal Duffrage.
Next-level skiving. Raising avoidance of the workplace to an art form.
When I woke up today, the heating was nearly half a degree out of whack, so I obviously had to some Shelleying. I told my boss I had hypothermia and was in the spa by 9.30.
A sustained campaign of Shelleying had enabled Simon to write his first novel, a six hundred page meditation on one man’s struggle with devastating haemorrhoids.
Person 1: “Man, I’ve not been in to work on a Friday for 15 years. I tell them I’m working from home, but I’ve totally cracked out the gin by mid-morning.”
Person 2: “Dude, that is some epic Shelleying.”
Extreme procrastination when a social appointment is looming, a process that often results in Mortlocking it.
The party was at 9pm, but I was Forstering about with Facebook and finally got in the shower at 8.55.
Simon had been Forstering about and home with some quackish treatments for McDonaldism and, by the time he actually got to the docks, all the best sailors had been taken. As such, he ended up having to go home with Vladimir One-Bollock, who also has syphilis. That'll teach him.
The act of inadvertently voiding one's bowels in a hilariously inappropriate place, such as friend's wardrobe.
In retrospect, declaring a history of Geoffecation on his CV was probably doing little to improve Simon's employment prospects.
Heindrich got really drunk on Belgian beer, and woke up the next day to find he had Geoffecated in his flatmate's antique trombone.
Although some people believe it to be an urban myth, Simon did indeed Geoffecate his pants in the frozen goods aisle of a local supermarket.
The cruel and bigoted practice of mocking a fellow human being simply because they have brutal, throbbing haemorrhoids.
Having endured three decades of unremitting grape shaming from his supposed friends, Simon cautiously lifted himself from the inflatable cushion and declared for all the world “No more!” And then “Aaargh! Me Farmer Giles!”