So I read this today,
We booked into a very expensive hotel, bought some very expensive drugs and stayed up all night until it was light, when we walked through London in the twinkling emptiness of Christmas morning
and decided that for a person without kids it sounds like the most perfect Christmas ever.
This week Miss B has been amused by:
The toilet monster is your friend.
The lyric, "Ladies are waxed, they all know I'm coming"
Being in the supermarket with the old dear (yes, I must oversee these things or she ends up forgetting the important things like Tropicana orange juice and arriving home with cream cakes and novelty mayonnaise - Look! It's mayonnaise but with garlic! We can have it with our chips - We never eat chips - Sometimes we do. From the takeaway - Yeah and then we can get garlic mayonnaise from the takeaway - But they never give you enough - Shut up) and having the following conversation whilst Rhianna's Dirty Love was playing on the most excellent in supermarket sound system,
"Mum, listen to the lyrics of this song
Mum puts her head to one side and obliges
Do you think it's about poo?
No. No I don't. And we're in public. Wake up and smell the coffee (??????????????????????)
I think Rhianna is smelling poo"
At that point she couldn't help but laugh. Ha. I win.