The Bear went to yet another wedding party last night. The Bear has a sore head.
Being the kindly chap I am, knowing how much she loves her her grub, I offered to cook her a full English Breakfast, as I'm told that a good meal helps in such circumstances.
To wet her appetite, I explained enthusiastically in glorious detail what I would cook for her, and how.
D'you know, I don't think I've seen someone move so fast. Making some very odd gurgling noises.
Some time later, she returned to explain, in somewhat graphic detail, why she considered I have not, nor ever had, parentage in any way, shape, or form.
How very ungrateful. Well, I had wondered why she's never got on with my mother, hmm......
Insert Wicked Grin Here :)
Never had a hang under myself. Nor, would it seem, would I want one......
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Oh, very witty. She's just returned from the supermarket and dumped five 500 ml cans of Carlsberg Special Brew on my desk. 9% proof. And flounced off into the garden. That's the equivalent of 4.5 pints.
Do I detect a gauntlet being thrown down? Sorry Dearest. I'm on a diet. Remember? ;)
4 comments:
Oh, you wicked fella...:-D x
Sorry Elizabeth love, I replied on your blog but I kept getting an error. Prob. my security is too tight. Did you get my post?
I did - thank you. x
Thank you too. And thank you for promoting the Stroke Association :)
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