i am Deeply Saddened to hear of the resignation of Downing Street's director of Communications, Andy Coulson. The news was broken to me in a Completely Private Conversation with David Cameron, in which he disclosed that Andy would still have his job helping him Fuck the Country Over and then Lie about it, were it not for the Insidious Persistence of the Press in Pointing Out that he is a Duplicitous Bastard. At this Sad Time, and now Cruelly Deprived of the Almost Certain Serialisation Rights and Subsequent Media Exposure i and my family so Clearly deserve, i have no choice but to release the Transcripts of my own Mobile Phone Calls myself.
Here then, are The Frank Tapes.
Dad: Hello It's only me.
Me: Yes.
Dad: Did you find out what wattage of shower Ian wired for?
Me: He couldn't remember.
Dad: Oh Ok. Bye.
Dad: Hello, it's only me.
Me: Yes.
Dad: i haven't fetched that Loft Insulation yet.
Me: ok.
Dad: You alright?
Me: Yes thanks. did you get that haircut?
Dad: Not yet. Ok then, bye.
Dad: (in the distance): Sylvia! Sylvia? (swearing) Rustle, rustle, thunk. (More swearing).
Me: Dad?
Dad: Sylvia? Where's my Car Keys?
Me : Dad! You've phoned me with your pocket again dad. DAD!
Sadly, the Landline remained clean. The Follow-Up Recording: Is This The Right Number For Welshpool Football Club? No? Are You Sure? is therefore, Tragically, Lost Forever.
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