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Saturday, 4 January 2014

In which One puts One’s hoof down…

One fears a re-invention of One on the horizon…

Does One have the energy?

Does One have the drive?

Can One give a feck?

Well, the future does look a tad on the bleak side, sales wise.  Not, One hastens to add, due to the lack of interest in One’s doings, rather the general disinterest in all things Arty.

So – what next?…

Will it be the sex chat line?…

caller     ‘hello tell me what you are doing right now?’

One        ‘Eating a leftover bit of Christmas cake, fried, whilst harvesting my post-menopausal beard and watching re-runs of Come Dine with Me.’

caller      ‘What are you wearing?’

One        ‘Me Andy Pandington Onesie, yesterdays pants and me moisturising socks.  How about you?’


Perhaps not…

It may not come to that since One still has enquiries re: buying stuff.

Lately a personage related to the Master of the Hunt has been in touch via email to tell One that the horseman in One’s Boxing Day Hunt pic is his father – The Master Himself…

One is hereby required to telephone said squire and see what he proposes to purchase.

These people don’t seen to have got the hang of this ‘shopping’ lark.

One doesn’t expect Waitrose to phone One and offer wares before One orders.

Pray no, Master, you want to buy, you contact Lovely One!

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