I am a 57 year-old ‘cougar’ with four children and two failed marriages behind me. Until recently I had given up all hope of finding love again. However, during a recent holiday to Turkey with my good friend Barbara, something amazing happened. One minute, Me and Babs were in a bar, shimmying on down to Candyman by Christina Aguilera, taking care not to get my cardi snagged on Barbara’s mobility scooter; the next, I was melting in the arms of a charming 19-year old sex-pot-with-a-six-pack called Murat. Although we’d only known each other for 20 minutes, Murat had already declared his love and asked about how he might arrange a British passport so we can spend eternity together. All this despite the fact I weigh 18 stone. Do you think it’s too soon for us to get a joint bank account?
That sounds like the time Andrew Harris convinced the whole class that he had a real, live tiger in his back garden, when in fact it was just his dog with a stripy rug sellotaped to its back; or the time my parents promised me and my big sister a ‘fun’ family holiday in Hunstanton, which actually turned out to be a miserable week trapped in an airtight caravan with my flatulent granny teaching us every card game known to man; or indeed, the time I thought I was getting a bargain by paying Â£1.50 for Sharon Eccles’ Tiny Tears doll that turned out to be massively incontinent and had to go in the bin after just one day. You may have picked up a recurrent theme here, which is basically that things which appear too good to be true invariably are too good to be true. I suggest you bid farewell to Murat, unless you want to run the risk of something terrible happening, like being chased through a back alley by an angry Alsatian wearing a carpet,
Hope that helps!