And things are off to a good start, when a pussy posse of Pretties whisper amongst themselves as I pass by "OMG - he's like such a hot stud!". And no lack of sarcasm either, for the babes boyfriends get all inadequate and jealous "Look at his fooking earring tho' - wot a bellend hur hur hur".
Greeted with a stoney silence from the sexpot sirens with a withering glance at their pouting paramours!
Cool - The Xym is a stud muffin!
Anyhoo - get to The Fair. Pretties abound! And Ooooh - one of my toppest of top totty from Starbucks on a Saturday!
Alas, with hubby and a duality of brattage. Oh well. Still, our paths keep crossing throughout the day - must be fate! I'm in there!
Meets up with chums, and has a wander. Ensconce ourselves behind the bread bin and are subjected to e Olde Medieval toƒƒpotƒ. Dancing about with a penny whistle, a drum and Ye Olde Baggpypeƒ. Re-enacting Ye Olde Wiveƒ Taleƒ with aminal pelts all over their bonce.
Hmmm...
Then, the jousting turns out to be a collection of Knights who's spent all morning polishing their shiny helmets. Bashing each other about their aforementioned helmets with their oversized weapons.
So, off for a hunt for Ye Olde Hogge Roaƒt and tankards of mead.
And as we sit, quaffing our inebriating beverages, up arriveth a pair of fair maidens to brighten our afternoon! Calling to me o'er the railing that pen us bawdy revellers within.
Alas, we allow the Princess to depart with their scurrilous Knave, and return to the admiration of the Pretties in their short short-shorts. Very short short short-shorts. Shorts so short, they cover not their bumcheeks.
Which was nice.
But I has no nip into work (Boo! Hiss!) and lose 30 mins of Pretty Ogle-isation. Except for the Pirate Wences on route! Can't beat a bunch of Pirate Wenches!
And then I return, and immmediately I has some Pretty in a short dress bending right over, shoving her cloven hooferies of skimpy lingerie in my face, all spider legged sproutage. And I turn away to be faced with the Jeremy Kyle Family from Hell. Papa Jupiter and his clan. Except no-one of the female offspring are as pretty as Ruby. Michelle Berryman more like! Devil dog? Right old dog, if you ask me!
And... we're booted out of our spot, because some selfish git has decided to collapse right next to me, so we're moved on. And who strolls by - only an Amy Winehouse trouser arouser lookie-likey in a short orange dress! Oh my!
But now, we're in the way again! And now they want to open the barricade to drive an ambulance through where I'm sat! Why does everyone & everything feel the need to try and go right through ME? A whole park, and it's always me that's inconvenienced! So we're moved off again.
And where do we end up... well, I look up - straight into the eyes of mah beloved Amy lookie-likey! And a couple of us notice she keeps looking over at me. At ME! She's obvs checkin' me out!
And then, one of our compatriots progeny plonks himself right between us, blocking my view!
Cockblocked by a kid!
And then, oh then, Jo noticed she's trying to stand up... involving much wide positioning of her lithe long lower limbs, inviting a clear view right up! Flash the gash! Look, Xym Look, she's stood, trying to put on tall, tall shoes, again involving much leg raising, PLUS doubling over with a clear view down the kle'varj! Check out the skimpy black lace frillies!
And now she's squatting down! Facing right at you Xym! She's obvs giving you a show here!
Yeah. Great. All I can see is Dax's bloody head in the way! Shift you little shit! Oh, you little fucker - as she walks away, now you move out the way! Dammit! All I gets to see is her walking away, sachaying her behind in pleasing rhythm.
Oh, NOW it decides to rain! Not when she was there in a flimsy dress to get soaked to the skin in.
Still, at least there's a cat fight in the tent by the beer tent!
Shame it didn't spill out into the mud outside.
With their dresses being ripped off in the fight.
Or something...
Damn you security!
