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.

Testicles for sale, Sex at ninety and Whipping.

Well I expect you all be thinking I been quiet. I been to the dentist this week. On Wednesday that was it.  (Not mines Mr Husband. He don't believe in such things as dentists or God or other such mysteries. Even on that day that he was 55 years and one week old.) Yep, that dentist she sure knows how to shut me up! I was grateful today that she got so obsessed with that feckin lump in me neck- I know- lumps in necks not really her field, but failed doctors and all that. I think she thought it might be a root from me tooth. I told her 'the doctor said its me nymphnode- it gets bigger and painful when I be poorly or stressed. And you be stressing me out with sticking all them sharp things in mines mouth and poking mines gums'. Smacked me nose on the ceiling a couple of times and bit her three times. And she washed the chair before I got in it (i think- t'was wet. Could have been old lady peed her pants- but I prefer to think she washed it down specially for me)- then it looked like I had peed me pants when I got out. Anyways I got clean teefs, all buffed up and varnished -ooer go me- like Rylan Clarkes now. Also she is writing to a masochist specialist bout me lump cos she don't like it. So why ye be grateful Beth I hear ye say? I be grateful cos she didn't notice I cut me fringe with the nail scissors before I went cos I am too mean to pay 50p to have it cut. Sadly mines mother noticed but didn't like to say anything! Well she did say if you paid 50p to have that fringe cut my girl I would ask for 49p back!

Tuesday t'was like this : I was laid there on floor when Mines Mr Husband came in. 'What ye doing down there mines little pickled parsnip and why are ye writhing like a beached a whale and pulling a face like ye sucking a sherbert lemon?' See now I don't have a house with a mirror on the ceiling I don't know what I look like. 'I be doing mines pelvic floor exercises- ye have to exercise ye pelvis on the floor', I tells him. 'But why?', the nosy bugger asked. 'So we can have sex at ninety' I tells him 'do ye not want sex at ninety?'. He didn't have to think about the answer to this. He said 'Of course I do, as long as someone else is driving cos it be dangerous otherwise'. Then he asked 'why are ye thrashing about, up and down?'. He bloody inquisitive that man. 'I am practicing pelvic thrusting for the hairpin bends', I told him. 'Ye don't need to worry about that he said', ye already have a grip like a bulldog clip and the hairpin bends will be of no danger to us'. I told him 'tis important, many an old person gets a bit of whiplash when having sex at ninety' (I greatly suspect- I have seen them in supermarkets having a job to stand up straight to get the peaches off the top shelf) 'and I don't want thee to have whipped lash or cream because I haven't done me exercises. He has now gone off to the other room for some sleep he said. Sex at ninety indeed- he gets exhausted thinking about it at 55.

On Thursday the day began like this :

Mines Mr Husband came into find me totally naked. He said 'Ooooer- sexy. You is completely naked- not even got your socks on- I like'. I told ye he be a nosy bugger. 'That mines husband', I said to him, 'is because this is because I am in the bath and this is how I gets in the bath- completely naked'. Then he wandered off muttering about how I should then put some water in the bath and it would all make more sense. Can't mind his own for five feckin minutes he can't. Then we went and photographed a kingfisher. So excited I was I nearly peed me pants.

Friday I discovered ye can get $35.000 for just one testicle. I don't know if ye has to give ye own- if this is so I am buggered. But if not I am currently making a list of ones I can donate. So don't feck me off or I can add ye to the list. Mines Mr Husband has been walking round with his in his hand just incase.

Today Mines Mr Husband says to me 'what ye doing little pickle? Why are ye searching Amazon now?' I told ye he be a nosy bugger. 'I am preparing for a chemical attack' I tells him. 'Why are we having beans for tea? I am going to be at work tonight so I will do all me chemical attacking at work'. Tis true his arse can be lethal if ye happens to get down wind of it. 'Ye won't be needing plastic sheeting, duck tape, wind up radios and whistles little pickle' he says. 'Oh ye are a daft arse (even if a smelly arse)', I says to him. 'I am preparing in case they Dayesh launch a chemical attack- they are mad feckers thems and I been reading about it'. I know he thinks I am bonkers but he won't when I gets me duck tape and me whistle out and chase him to the our designated safe place- specially chosen by moi- tis our bedroom. He will be safe in there I shall see to it personally.

That be it. What ye mean is that all? Well ye can always buy me little book The Three Little Pigs a Westcountry Tale for Adults- Go to Amazon and find me or go through me blogs and read thems all again.