Herself has just read my little musing from earlier today.
“You’re very rude” says she.
“Me? Never!” says I.
“You’ll get into trouble calling the Pope a fucker” says she.
“I didn’t say it,” says I. “Blame God”.
“Anyway, you won’t get many comments. Everyone is off getting pissed.” says she with impeccable logic.
She has a point.
I’m snowed in today. No chance of going anywhere. The roads are all closed. There is only one thing to do.
Our Puppychild has the right idea.
She got pissed as a newt at Christmas. Fucking champagne, if you don’t mind!
When I was her age, I had to make do with whiskey.