IT was Michael Jackson’s first deathday celebration day last Friday and to be honest, it was a bigger fuck-up than that time he hung the kid over the balcony – the bloke just hasn’t got a bloody clue.
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Dear Holly, I recently agreed to let my husband relinquish his evening washing up duties and attend a line dancing class in our village hall. He is a rather portly gentleman, and he had suggested that some vigorous exercise would do him good. However, the other evening, as I was passing the hall with our Yorkshire terrier, I happened to cast a glance through the window of the village hall and caught sight of my husband engaged in a highly vulgar act with Mrs Peters from the post office. The things that they were doing to each other were indeed ‘vigorous’, yet at no point in the proceedings did they even attempt a do-se-do. Do you think I should take this up with the committee?Sheila,Aldershot
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