Wednesday saw me doing the bingo or rather bingo nearly doing me. Again. The simplest of tasks and the most placid of games seems to turn the most sweet and gentle old lady into a Tasmanian Devil. It started off badly when Jimmy, the head bingo bobby, decided not to come out to play. Last week he got rushed into hospital after sorting out the bingo session with a suspected swinging brick attack. I would have said heart…
Woo hoo – the lunatics have taken over the asylum. Having lead a very sheltered childhood and an even more sheltered adult hood I am rather astonished to see how this Macmillan site has lead me astray. Not only are we talking cancer here – yes I have said it, the dreaded C word but now I am being exposed to sado-masochism, man eating budgies, rubber fetish water sports fanatics, self obsessed demon decorators and Jeremy…
I know what you are all thinking …. About bloody time but to tell you the truth I am knackered just reading about Kezzerbird’s budgie hunt and keeping up with her.
Now where was I. Ah yes – through the gate. I must confess that I have never been to one of the Queen’s garden parties and I am never likely to either. Just choosing the twinset and pearls and a hat to match would be too much for me – Picko…
