And this week’s word of the week is: responsibility.

As in: “Mum, I don’t need the responsibility right now, but thank you very much for the hospital pass”; or “she’s meant to be your responsibility Hayden, not mine”; or “take some responsibility for your fucking lives, you drug freak losers!”

It really pisses me off when the people around me don’t take any responsibility for their actions. We’re meant to be in the job of selling drugs, not ingesting as many of them as humanly possible, all the time. God, why am I hooked up with those losers? And it’s not like Jethro is going to step up and help because he’s too busy being Mummy’s boy. What a suck-up. I hope he runs Hoochie Mama into the ground, just to teach them both a lesson.

So, as usual, it all comes back to me to keep the ship afloat, keep it moving in the right bloody direction. Christ, if I left it up to those useless pricks it’d have bloody sunk by now. And I may slap bloody N-n-n-n-n-nadine before too long, just to put the lippy bitch back in line.

Piss. Arse. Shit. This is so unfair. Now I’m the one who has to take responsibility, in ways I swore I never would, for the thing I never wanted in the first place and which I thought I’d managed to get rid of. Thanks for that, Hayden.

Unfair, so bloody unfair, is all I have to say on the matter.