A fishy tale

I’ve always thought that Gorf was a bit of a mentaller, it’s part of his charm, but last night didn’t just confirm that, it rammed it home sideways with a pick axe that the guy is without a doubt, a complete certifiable, lock him up in a rubber room in a straight jacket, nut job.
We were in McFool’s having our usual Thursday evening beverages, Giblets was also present and Gorf was telling me about how he noticed that something was wrong with his fish, for the last couple of days they were swimming up at the surface and looked as if they were gasping for air.

‘It’s your water quality’, sez I, knowing a thing or two about fishes,’ you’ll need to change about a third of it, the level of nitrate has increased.’
‘It’s OK’, sez he, ‘I fixed them.’
‘What did you do?’ I asked, expecting him to say that he added a nitrogen remover media to his filter.
‘I took them out and gave each of them a squeeze.’
‘Ye Whah?!’
‘I thought that they had a bit of trapped wind that was stopping them from swimming to the bottom so I winded them. It worked, they don’t swim at the top anymore.’
‘I’m not fuckin surprised’, sez I, ‘coz the last time they were up there, a huge fucking hand reached in, pulled them out and squeezed the shite out of them!!’

This man has children! I don’t know whether to call the I.S.P.C.F or Social Services to warn them of an impending disaster!