Second Besting, and So We’ll Go No More Aroving.

Well then the truth is always best, the Sainted One is mourning the demise of the fifteen year old Rover . It was towed back from Northern France at vast expense and now is destined for scrap. “You simply do not understand what I am going through,” he announced today. “That Car was the love of my life.” I am very insulted by this , if your husband of thirty years wants to fall in love outside the parameters of convention a sleek Dolce Vita Lamborghini smelling of expensive leather and faded Chanel Number Five is less challenging, but a pale blue rattle trap smelling of feet old food and uncleansed upholstery, well I ask you? He sat very low in that thing and sometimes it looked as if only a head was driving it, he has nearly run me over quite often because men don’t see their wives after a few weeks actually, he didn’t notice when I had my eyelids removed and looked like Mohamed Ali for a month. But the Rover struck a deep and sensitive chord. Always look on the bright side though, I now have a pink ticket to pleasure myself with the fridge or even my old range master and Lenor Fabric Conditioner, it’s all out there the opportunities are endless.

So my grandson thinks the Corbyn Victory will liven things up no end and draw attention to the forgotten young all pissed as newts on their filthy campuses. This boy is destined to be very rich I can just tell he likes good quality stuff expensive bath unguents and plays his cards close to his chest, I never discuss politics. He said it to provoke me. He will have a fleld day with the Sainted One when he returns from his search for a replacement car a “runabout” I have decided we shall give it a name …….it should be slightly sleazy perhaps, the sort of name you hear in Golf clubs, but I don’t want to offend anyone so this will not be announced outside the confines of the family.

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