itsmeagain

she ran so swiftly that hey , you know, thankfully I'd not ever catch her up..oh what

I'll try checking it out .

having twenty pounds to spend on spuds, all the mash with chives, salt and pepper chips, boiled potatoes,batatas murros from Portugal, spuds spuds..

said ' we are Chlothilde and John Revolting, me of UK, him via all the world, and we want to see some books.' 'Oh, I thought you were attempting to sell me insurance', he said, a broad grin crossing his face. 'Jimmy Flatulent, manager of this, the finest book emporium in Wigtown. Let me see the books.' I handed him a neatly wrapped parcel. It was opened , to reveal wondrous books, authors such as Dickens, Woolf, Hardy, Dinesen, and so many more. Lifting 'How to prevent gerbil flatulence', by G. Ladeye, along with Great Expectations, he murmured, ...

, my phone beeped. A text from Pythagoras, drunk, sleepy, and hungover. 'Where are you love? I hope you are still dreaming of my firm round...' 'Who's texted you..?' , came the enquiring refrain from Clothilde. I

, happily, Clothilde threw off the red cap , abandoned the West Country drawl, and stood up. 'Oh, you do love spuds ', she said, brandishing a Tesco receipt. 'You spent 43 quid in May last year , on spuds and spud things like chips, mash, and so on . I want to know

'Oh, me old hearrrrty', said a voice, disarmingly and horribly akin to that of Pubicus, ' oi be a farrrmerr, do ye requirrre patatahs?' I adore spuds, and so....

a timid, faltering, knock at the door, superseded by a strident, confident, chime of my mobile, along with the drrring of a landline by my bed...

Teaberry sounds good.

rest my weary head, away from all types of female jibber jabber.😄 In the doss house, a bloke named Mark, small, Lancashire accent, bald, domed head, sweaty, said ' 'ave yer anything ter declare young lad, befooerr aahlog yerr in?' As I was not in an airport, I said no, and soon I was ensconced in a nice...

, it began to rain, much more heavily than before. It was a cold March night

Who are these .....?...

, just as......

she fell headlong over the outstretched body of Gilby Perv, 54, Leicester by birth, a joiner who always ended up lying on the floor, looking up, as young women in short dresses ambled past. 'You stupid, wretched clown', yelled Zelda. Soon the two sisters were embracing, like long-lost sisters, and since they'd not spoken since 2003, it was a big emotional reunion, marked by tears, beer, perfume, relationship chatter....

...I am making up a quote for window repair ok...

PC Broderick, having received information on Martinus', ahem, less than exemplary past , declared, 'Martinus Public House, you are hereby under a vest for kidnap, you do not have to say...' 'I'm Pubicus, not Public House...Public House is where you go for a few jars each Friday night, don't....

turned to.my phone, which I hadn't switched on in 6 hours. A series of messages from Clothilde, threatening divorce. Pythagoras' eyes beamed at the prospect..all 7 quid 14 of me...being hers and hers only, after all....

Hello....?....

to wail, deep, anguished, sobs, which rent the air with their pleading tone. 'I'm PC Broderick' , declared PC Broderick, 44, from Wandsworth. 'I wanna know who this man is', he said, pointing at Golem. 'I ..am Martinus Pubicus, heir of Donny Pubicus,

the police arrived, a burly ginger bloke with a beard, leapt from the police car, and asked what's what, who's causing bother, etc. I...

what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Suddenly curious, I asked Golem for his name. 'Oh, wanting to get personal?', he said, a benign grin on his leery, sweaty, lairy physiognomy. 'I only want...

, a man dressed in a grey suit, brought lukewarm coffee to be sipped by all present. I was getting restless when the police arrived. Pythagoras......

Thanks for this Poppy.

..she..is...my ..wife', he hissed, like Golem eulogising about 'my preshuss' . ..'what's more, is..she ain't up for grabs..', then he suddenly launched into song.. 'My baby don't care for no other man, no My baby just cares for only I...', went the lyrics as he eyed me with disdain.'Don't worry', I whispered, in a cat hissy type of way, 'this is her sister Pythagoras'..'and he is mine, not hers', said Pythagoras, looking to..

a Hobbit like elderly gent with straggly hair and a Golem like sheen of sweat soaking his face, dressed in a yellow jacket, green muffler, sun spectacles,plus 4s, and beach sandals, arrived at...