21 August 2010


Typical, innit?

Here I am with some dosh to launder from thwarting the highway deal, and up (or rather down) comes the perfect opportunity to do good by doing well: hubby even blubbed when I put the offer to him, to M.A.S.H. chopper his spinal-tapped spouse home.

Next thing I know, the great British publique has acted totally out of character (and order) and taken round the cap and come up with its own piggy bank of 16 big ones.

At which point, Yers Truly drops off the radar, yeh?

WTF's the use of making these Grand Gestures and earning Brownie points if the Great Unwashed can swan in and scoop the limelight?

Notice how M'sieur makes nary a mention of my offer?

Pocket *my* offer and glide home on the donations. Exactly what I'd do, Mikalis, mate.

All effort for nowt: I got Mildred to put on her anonymousiest voice, all the while running background with that CD of "Kassiopi ~ Gateway to the North ~ Sounds You have Loved".

Any road, something rum about this whole story, you ask me ... and I'm not talking about the mix in yon lassie's honeymoon goblet ...

Lovely place to Moon the Meli, is Kavos-sur-Merde ... bags of action, never a demure moment, no danger of orgasmic wailings keeping the room next door awake (he'd be 'up' orl nite anyway, if he's a man) ... but what's with tumbling over yon 'barrier'?

I've got one at home and it's the devil's own job for even the fittest tottie to clamber over to get at my wedding tackle behind Maman's chaperonienne derrière.

Reading 'twixt the sheets, I mean lines, here's how I reckon it happened:

  • Mrs Dudbridge (dread name!) exhausts Hubby with her far-from-dud Pilates manoeuvres, leaving him shagged out on t'connubial camp bed
  • Exits for a breather and to scope out her next prey
  • Spots hunky Kavosian BeefKake
  • "Ooh, tasty ~ you'll do. 'Ullo, darlin' ~ stay right there, I'll be over in a jiffy."
  • And with a Hop Skip and a Tumble, so she was.
  • Ouch! Yaroo! So much for Carrie-Anne kavorting or whatever they get up to down there.
  • Nay, lad, mustn't joke ~ I'm just sulky about being cut outta da Big Story.

    Sulk pout.

    I was looking forward to playing coy for a day or two, then letting Hilary trace me (That Mildred! Blabbing in CG's again) et voilà, a blush-making exposé next to the write-up of Joe Brown.

    Blimey, my money'd be no good in any pub in town.

    Curses, foilèd.

    [Speaking of spinal topping, how about them Saudis?]