Ketchup
Hello my dear sweet friends,
Hope that I find you well and ready for a blog catch up, or if are feeling peckish a blog ketchup. No pressure, it’s entirely up to you.
But I digress!
Of course I really should have been in London at Pride but I couldn’t face getting all soggy. Somebody asked me while I was having a pint in a pub on Canal Street, whether my decision not to go down was informed by the car bomb threats. I told him that two cars not exploding doesn’t really frighten me. It’s the ones that go bangy- boom that make you shit yourself. Then if you’re standing next to a bangy-boom car when it goes off-perhaps reading the latest edition of Midget Jugs Magazine-you really aren’t going to have a great deal of time to start shitting yourself as it’s probably already flying toward Peru at the speed of sound. So it was just the rain, however I received a text message from a chum who was standing in Trafalgar Square watching Doctor Who on big screens and it was only drizzling a little, so it just goes to show that exploding things and weather are equally unpredictable.
Well chumsters, I must say you look fantastic today and your hair and buttocks look particularly good.
Toodle Pip!
