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Sunday, 15 February 2015

In which bloody Eileen needs a wee...

'Hello Mother. Happy Birthday,' said One.
'I've sent you a birthday card with thirty quid in it and good luck for Tuesday,' Came the confusing reply from Aged P.
'My operation is on Thursday' countered One 'and it's your birthday. Mine is in September.'
We went on to discuss this afternoon's tea party, being held at a garden centre near Milton Keynes.
Ange, the gang supremo of all the old girls on the council estate has a car and oft rounds them all up for a day out.
'Bloody Eileen will want the toilet before we get to the end of the road,' opined Mother, 'the doctor said to me: Mrs Harris, I've never seen such an enormous bladder as you've got and Ange won't get a man like you've got because she's got so fat.'
'She should go for it anyway' said One, 'there will be loads of old codgers out there who'd love to squire a lovely girl like Ange.
'I've just taken me acid for crumbling bones,' continued Aged P, you have one a week so I do mine on a Sunday so I can lay down while it circulates.'
'That sort of thing is precisely why poor unfortunates like me only get day surgery. Too much money is spent keeping old girls like you going into ridiculous old age,' said One.
'Bloody cheek, you tart,' replied Mother.
'Get it right,' replied One, 'alcoholic slut,' is my preferred soubriquet.
Anyway, it's the A of the F's mother's birthday on Tuesday. She's eighty five as well and we thought that since we're skint that in future we'll get
a seven day bunch of garage carnations between you. You can keep them for three days and then send them on to her.'
'I've got to go. Bloody Jackie's at the front door with her tattoos and a hoover.'

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