Lazy Sunday Morning

Following on from my disgraceful attack on the 10th anniversary of Saint Diana, Queen of Hearts the other day which clearly upset several people, may I, in the interests of balanced reporting, recommend this web site to redress the issue ?

Today, as my wife does not appear to be speaking to me (for why I know not) I shall be continuing with the thirteenth chapter of "The Tomato Dip", a writing project that is now in its third year, for I am no-ones Barbara Cartland.



"And when Foxy had finished chasing Bob around the neighbourhood they had returned to the van, sat inside and opened their lunchboxes, and whilst Bob had managed to wash his hands in the house earlier Foxy hadn't, and despite stinking of four days worth of human excrement, his hair still tacky and his fingernails stuffed full of the light brown stuff, Foxy had enjoyed his jam sandwiches and even licked his fingers clean at the end, at which point Bob had to leave the van for some fresh air.

Bob reminds Foxy of the tale now and they lean on Mrs Azids new kitchen units laughing out loud until it starts to hurt, each adding his own little tag to the storyline and when Bob reminds Foxy that he never washed his hands afterwards, Foxy is holding his Denby cup of tea close to his mouth and he throws back his head and laughs so loud that he spills half of it down his overalls and onto Mrs Azids new lino floor, so he puts the cup down on the worktop, spilling more of it in the process and makes a wiping motion with his workboots on the lino, which only suceeds in spreading the tea even further as well as making it dirtier.

They're both laughing so hard now that Foxy belches in the middle of a guffaw and nearly brings his sandwiches up again so he walks out of the back door for air and to calm down a bit, Bob stays in the kitchen, fresh chuckles erupting at random intervals, tears running freely down his face and muttering the occasional "oh dear," and "you daft bugger"."