Though, to be honest, after going to my first barbecue of the year on Sunday, I think 'lob another tosser on the barby, Bruce' would be more appropriate.
What is it with you men, when faced with sunshine as well as booze, that fills you with the urge to piss in fish ponds, climb trees, break childrens' toys and collapse on tables full of drink?
All you get from us girls, little church-mice that we are, is a bit of sick on the toilet floor. Easily rectifiable and no fish have to die!
I was, up until that point, thinking 'roll on Summer'.
Now I'm not so sure!
Coming Back With Front.
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Good grief, this thing is still here? Doesn't Blogger ever put it's rubbish
out for the binmen?
6 years ago
4 comments:
Lucy your posts make me worry that you're imbibing in some of the stronger strain that Gordon wants us to give up. I sometimes think that you must have written a full piece and then deleted the opening and closing paragraphs to make us work harder to guess the context. I love it.
You'd be wrong on two counts there, anymouse. Firstly, I try my size 10 knickers off to make my point as easy to understand as possible, and secondly, your 'love of worrying' is going to decrease your quality of life and probably lead to health problems later on.
Yours,
Aunt Lucy.
Toss one on the Scenic, you meant.
I'd like to point out that it's only british men who shit in mailboxes when pissed on lager.
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