-Do you know I haven't got a clue what to post about.I could waffle on about the Cafe C weekend shenanigans .
James got a groin strain dirty dancing with 25 Drunken young women inexplicably dressed as Lady Ga Ga.(the ladies not James...he was dressed as Dame Judy Dench as usual , he has not got the legs for it but will he listen to reason)
Mr C burnt my lovingly prepared tapas canapes ( I say lovingly prepared....I opened the box and placed them on a lightly greased tray for god sake ).
Frobisher was festering at the sink as another act had been booked instead of Mavis , I could hear him muttering about rubbish singing and huffing at the jokes as he moodily slung the washing up about in the sink . Mr C sneaked in the kitchen and warily eyeing Frobisher said loudly
"I can smell something BITTER"
and then ran off before he was decapitated by a plate
The lovely Miss Marsh was guesting at the bar , but luckily no underpants when missing this time. There are rumours of ghastly gastric incidents following her culinary experiments , which have resulted in furtive flushings of said begrimed undergarments , or maybe she steals them and spends her Sunday evenings dancing sound with them on her head....sniffing , they do strange things in Basingstoke.
Then again I could just sit here
And do nothing
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