"Turning over a new leaf...

... my arse!
Every single year it is the same old crap. It happened a bit later than usual this year but it always happens. All the trees on the estate shed all their leaves at the same time during one of the many gales and they all fuckin' land on my shaggin' doorstep. Every single fuckin' year. 
I bought the house in August 1979. That shaggin' estate agent knew better than trying to flog it in autumn. Even by estate agents' standard he seemed eager to get rid of it. Bastard! Don't get me started with the fuckin' leaves. The magic of autumn... Magic my arse! And the first fucker who mentions Nat (fuc)King Cole gets a rake handle up his arse!" 

It seems like the annual gathering of the leaves outside Paddy's house never fail to bring out the Tourette in him...