I just thought I would let concerned readers know that I am alive and well and recovering in Brighton's most rock 'n' roll hotel from a sustained bout of online editing (well, a girl has to earn a living).
I found a room through one of those late booking websites. It was a good price and I was offered a pop culture/music themed room: could be Rough Trade (the mind boggles), the Lee 'Scratch' Perry dub reggae room...
In the event they took one look at me and put me in the lady's boudoir. Instead of ducks flying up the wall there are plaster casts of women's arses. Clad in black knickers.
Outside my window a seagull is nesting, and it resents intrusions, or else I would share with you a snapshot of the Brighton roofscape basking in the unseasonally warm weather. Makes a welcome break from the unseasonally cold and wet weather, non?
I am mixing politics with pleasure - as you would expect - on the fringes of the national conference of the Public and Commercial Services Union (PCS - Mark Serwotka's crowd.)
While I am here, I am collecting dirt on Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government Eric Pickles. Yes, I know he is in some respects the scourge of Barnet Tories, but my enemy's enemy is certainly not, in this case, my friend. More soon. Well, a Citizen Barnet enjoying a short break sort of soon.
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8 comments:
"plaster casts of women's arses. Clad in black knickers"
"the national conference of the Public and Commercial Services Union"
"Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government"
Vicki, I can't help feeling that there is something missing in your life! Let me whisk you away from all that detritus before you get too old and realise how your life has been wasted. Just say the word and I could dash over to Brighton, pick you up in my rather sexy Ford Cortina and fly you, well, not exactly to the moon, but Bogner, perhaps? Awfully nice this time of the year!
(Just don't bring Mrs. 'A' with you, is all I ask.)
Women's arses... black knickers... PCS conference... Eric Pickles.
That sounds like a dream NotW headline: too bad they're not around when you need them.
Sounds more like a Duff wet dream, Citizen Barnet. Sorry to lower the tone.
Actually, I feel rather hurt. Not even David Duff wants me. I have definitely lost it. Whatever it was. There really is nothing left for me now but blogging, knitting, and - f*ck knows what else.
Anyway, Duff: is there something wrong with black knickers? Unladylike? I imagine Mrs Duff prefers thermal bloomers,rather like your long johns, only without the socks stuffed down the front.
By the way, when George V said 'bugger Bogner', I don't think he meant you to take him literally.
Dear Victoria,
My dear girl, don't get too excited. Rather like the Union Jack at a Royal funeral, David tends only to fly at half mast these days.
oh dear: Mrs Duff - our commiserations. But clearly you have not fulfilled your womanly duty in the right way. Maybe buy some new underwear?
Or, Mrs D, have your arse cast in plaster, frame it, and hang it on the wall just where Mr D can see it when he's making his airfix models.
Mrs A, you and I should go into business.
Business? As in 'looking for'? Hmm. Maybe. Not sure I've got the energy. Or inclination. Could cater for the more mature gentleman, with less demanding appetites & in need of a good talking to. Form an orderly queue. Don't try & sneak in at the back, David Duff.
PS I note that, unlike in your facebook reports, there is no reference to the nipple tassles. This is proabably wise, in the circumstances.
He's gone very quiet, hasn't he?
Calm down, dears, I've been away and now I've completely lost the thread!
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