Yesterday was a pain.
I decided it was time I balanced the books, and I hate anything to do with accountancy.
But it must be done. I have suppliers who must be paid, so I must make sure I am being paid. That’s the way it works.
It used to be a lot simpler in the old days, when I just grew my own. I had no supplier, so my accounts could be done on an envelope.
But then they got tired of just smoking and baking, and they started wanting to sniff and snort. That was the time I had to get an alternative source. That wasn’t easy, as I had to import the stuff, and every time a container load came in at Dublin Docks, the b*st*rds went and confiscated it for some reason. I think they were setting up their own trade, and using my supplies.
So I had to start importing on the West Coast, and with the cost of petrol these days, that’s expensive.
My biggest customer is the government. Judges, police, barristers, teachers and nuns account for a lot, but the government beats them all hands down. Bertie alone owes me €37,426.89 and that’s just for last week.
Frankly, I think he is overdoing it a bit. It is certainly affecting his memory, as he is extremely confused about past events. It also affects he speech very badly, though he was never that hot to start with.
It is costing him a fortune, and it’s no wonder his friends have to give him a dig out, even if they don’t realise they are his friends. Frankly, if it weren’t for the back-handers, and the under-the-table deals, none of them could afford to pay me. And some of them are becoming a little indiscreet. Cowan keeps using expressions like ‘drawing a line under the past’. I know when he says things like that, he it itching to get down to the toilets for a quickie. They are always talking about ‘lines’ these days, even though I have warned them to stop
Bertie rightly gave them all a big pay rise recently. It goes some way to paying off their debts, but frankly it’s only a tear-drop in the ocean.
I think Bertie and the gang deserve a much bigger pay rise.
Because I’m worth it.