or rather, a white chocolate Easter!
Literally dreaming, for of eggies I have none.
Serves me right for trying to slim down to try and attract dancing dames* in dingy downbelow dives. But boy, do I crave a big fat easter egg, stuffed with a big packet of chocs inside.
* Not dames as in Christopher Bigguns pantomimic stylee {shudder}, but Hot Hades Honeys. However, my latest advice I has been given on how to approach said top totty is by get some confidence first by boffing a few munters. Apparently, despite their lack of humour and personality, these maloderous mingers are ’well up for it’, so I should be able to boost my ego by being able to pull ’shag for a pint’ skanky hoes. After banging back-end-bus boilers for a while, I’d be so confident in my pulling power, that I’d be able to work my way up to approaching proper ladies with taste and whatnot (especially the whatnots) and be able to take rejection and shame in my strides (coz there’s always more booze britain trollops out there!).
So, Mile Cross Garages, here I come!
On second thoughts, perhaps when my advisor proposed this course of action, perhaps being ’well in there’ was not the there I expect... more like being well into a clinic of the STD persuasion... and what would CDB thing of me then! I’d’ve got ’the practise’ in and the confidence to approach, and I have to void my wallet purchasing blazers with the Chlamydia motif, as well as a belt & pants with Gonorrhea emblazoned acoss 'em.
Not to mention the Cromer coat!
