Now look! I know you selfish little articles only read me to laugh at my sad doings, but One has noticed a severe drop off in readers of late. And for that matter a distinct lack of comments. Do you think One does this for One’s own benefit? One is selfless in the reporting of even the most trivial of One’s doings. However, One is entirely certain that this lack of adoration from you, my subjects, is as a result of One not being…
Seeking the company of elderly duffel bag owners
Not reporting the dastardly deeds of Uncle Bert
And generally living the life expected of a Dowager Duchess
Well – SOZ in the extreme
News reaches One that Uncle Bert has been unable to shake off his siege mentality and is still frequenting the cash and carry for shed loads of dirty food and taking advantage of bulk buying from some downmarket online emporium called seductively, ‘Wowcher.’
An email from his man cave informs One that his latest bargain buy has been a two-bedroom bungalow sized container of toiley-boiley-tissue.
Quite where this Bonanza of Bronco is going to be stored is beyond One.
On One’s visit to the aforementioned Man Cave, One couldn’t help but remark upon the unusually large collection of six sizes too small football shirts which have to be preserved for some obscure reason. There is also a worrying enormous gathering of resin skulls (One kids you not) displayed on an inferior Argos style cabinet that wouldn’t get house room in the Underground Lair.
And there in the midst of all this is the hound, scratching and flicking fur all over the establishment whilst Uncle Bert, shirtless and (no doubt) commando sits in state on a mound of porous bog roll.
Still, at least he won’t have to get up from watching the football to go toiley boiley.
CAN YOU BELEIVE IT, DEAR READER, THE JTWSEG ONLY WANTS ONE TO
DRIVE TO BRISTOL
There had better be chocolate involved