Treats, Quality Sausage and Whipping my Nae Nae.

Mines Mr Husband took me up the muff for a treat. We had a quality sausage up the café. You know how I feel about quality sausage. Never have anything less. Also tis a nice Café. Posh. The first thing you see is when you open the door is the best cake on the planet. Well the best cake up the muff. Mines Mr Husband made me sit right up the back of the café so I wouldn’t drool over the cake. He told me I had to eat all my sausage before I could have cake. I sat there still looking at all the peoples all down the café (tis a long café). I was worried they would eat all the cake before I had finished partaking of my quality sausage. So when Mines Mr Husband left me unattended for a minute or two I stripped off, climbed on the table, grabbed the nearest light fitting and swang through the café singing wrecking ball. The café cleared in seconds apart from the old geezer in the corner. He tried to have a stroke. I was just getting round to whipping me nae nae and who should appear to piss on me beans but Mr Husband himself. He was cross and said I couldn’t have cake if I didn’t come down. In the end we struck a deal- I would only come down if I got cake. He had to relent and  I had a cake that had icing and inch thick and I am still on the ceiling. I am typing this with my nose.