Saturday, 27 June 2009

Gold diggers strike out

'Oh you must come round sometime,' she gushed—as she looked around for the £100,000 lottery winners.

He longed to whip out his diary, to see her squirm by taking it seriously. She quickly moved on leaving Bill chuckling. He was the £10,000,000 prizewinner who had ticked for no publicity.


'I love ferns, they are so green and…er…feathery,'said Sally.The visit to Mark's mother was sinking. It wasn't just her being a cut price Barbara Cartland, it was the look-what-the-cat-has-dragged-in looks from behind the china teacup.

'Oh…my late husband loved them.'

Mark gave Sally's hand a triumphal squeeze.

So who butters your parsnips?

Ooh, my little sweet potato pie,

come to daddies' dumplings thigh.

Hmm, make my bacon spit
and pappy promises to commit.

Oh yeath, break out the biscuits,
and forgive the bad boy pursuits.

Phew baby, did your oven rumble,
this guy's gone so has to scramble.

Call me, whenever. Chow.