Friday, May 7, 2010

Erotic Marmalade

Well, fondle my marzipan and call me a tadpole, have you ever… I mean, ever seen such a glockenspiel like that. I mean, come on be honest…. I bet you’ve never horizontally-tangoed with anyone else with such an enviable collection of cheese graters have you?

You have….



In that case I stand corrected* and humbly offer you this jar of erotic marmalade in lieu of compensation as well as a free rummage through my bejewelled orgying shorts a week on Thursday, so make a note in your diary. I find E flat is usually more than adequate, although I have known some people swear by A sharp, but they were mere double-glazing salesmen, so you can imagine the state of their cheeseboards, I’m sure.

So, anyway, there we were nasturtiums at the ready, when who do you think brought his cashbook in for a full reconciliation?

I’ll tell you….

Only the bloke who stood next to that woman who was in that advert for that stuff you get in the jars from a discreet local emporium in a plain brown wrapper, that’s who.

I can tell be the way your eyes glazed over then, that you were more than a little impressed.

If you let me stand closer, I could impress you more.

Yes, it is supposed to stick out like that**.


*Which is not easy in these underpants.

**See above.

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