Guilty Pleasures

Have you got any?

I have. I actually quite liked Ally McBeal, I think the theme tune to button moon is hauntingly beautiful and  I also love those coconut covered chocolate snowballs. God knows what the fluffy filling is. It is probably petroleum based.

Here’s why I mention it. I was on the tube the other day and couldn’t help but notice what one of the passengers was reading on his phone. It was this…..

B*Witched

MF B*Witched!

You can’t blame this one on the weather man mister, you were caught red handed.

Maybe if I had come up with this chat up line myself I would met someone years ago

I was on a rather incredible second date recently, snogging in a pub, beaming broadly and generally wondering at what point someone would shout “get a room”

When we finally managed to prise our magnetic lips apart he came out with this blinder

 “Man, you’re so handsome you must have been photoshopped.”

I loved it. If you’re anywhere near as vain as I am you would have loved it too. There have been three more crackers like that since, but I’m keeping them to myself.

I think the fact that the fourth date lasted 49 hours is a good sign. I have lost count of which one we’re on now.

I am still a bit worried everything could go tits up. New love is a bit like a partially set jelly. If you wobble it too early you’ll end up with load of slop that doesn’t appeal to anybody. I am trying not to wobble.

By the way, raspberry is my favourite flavour jelly. My mum used to get me these weird opaque ones . My brother wouldn’t eat them. That is probably why I loved them…..I got twice as much.

God, I’m boring myself. Are you still here?

See you fuckers

Harrison

x

Fight!

I was awoken this morning by a couple of middle-aged scratters having a fight outside my flat.

A woman in grey flannel leisurewear was following her gentleman friend down the street screaming abuse. She had clearly had a leisurely breakfast of cooking sherry and cigarettes. He looked like the type of man who might have a taste for methylated spirits. Perhaps it’s the rich purple colour that appeals.

The screaming match went on for so long that I wanted to throw the contents of a latrine on them from my balcony. Had we been living in 1650 I probably would have.

At one point the lady in flanelling grey started shouting “You’re a dirty…….disgusting….stinking…..” …only to be cut off by a tiny, self assured voice.

“Is it you?”

“What?” said the woman

Standing across the road was a school girl with her hands on her hips.

“Is it you though? ……….Is it that you’re talking about yourself?”

The woman didn’t say another word, and just stood there with her mouth open

The girl cheerily said “You want to look at yourself mate” before skipping off to school.

Peace at last.

I see a bright future ahead of that young lady, either as a diplomat or a reality TV show judge.

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