itsmeagain

putting on coats , scarves , and mufflers, the latter being more appropriate for some than others, I mused, as we began clearing tables. I was feeling worried about how to appease Rosie, who would be like a kitten with a ball on this, until I appeased her. Shall I take her to the pictures? Make a stew? Start washing my plate after eating? Make the bed at home? What does a man do, I wondered, sat on a chair, a look of deep concentration on my face, my body leaning forward, head on fist, elbow on knee, determined to get to the bottom of this. Any thoughts I may have had regarding the issue of telling Rosie about the new name for the cafe, were brought forward, as ' daddy' entered, saying, ' I say, a young chappie out there has just told me this premises is called the Pussy Galore cat cafe..what a splendid idea..Rosie , start building the sign for the door to reflect that..I will design one for above the window, then we......

child

try to resolve the matter amicably..Sir is that OK? Sir there's a protest outside a bank , hippies claiming banks are thieving corporations, so the police will be beating them up instead of attend some lefty veggie hippy cafe full of cats..' ''Moit, you're jass pretendin moit, you're a leftie yersel, you now you are', wailed a desperate Mark, as a pie dish flew past his head and embedded itself in a mural of the Queen visiting a Lambeth homeless shelter in 1990. ' Can we all calm...

action

licking at an open mega tub of Flora on the floor. Suddenly Henry Beech, 35, a visitor from Surrey, dropped his brolly in the toilet bowl after a push at the door from Molly Middlewich, leading to Mark Mangler of East London, to accost Molly and say, 'ei, silly bagga, stop yer impaishense, will yer,or oi'll call ve police..' Mark thought all disputes were best settled by police action, so on the phone he went. 'Ello..is vat Landan poleese?', he wailed, waving.....

sleeper

You too, darl.. and all users of this forum.

screaming blue murder as she was ejected from the toilet, the mad dash of customers frantically protesting as John Flytip took it upon himself to wail, ' I need a bog, please make way..', to which no one responded. ' Can we form an orderly queue please, like civilised members of the public..?..' , I asked, trying to restore decorum . Rosie took me to the kitchen, saying ' oooh Johnny, I need answers, and swiftly..why weren't you honest about being married to Clothilde..she's a horrible brat and I am really disappointed in you..oh...

Loser

mumbling in a semi coherent, annoyed type of reserved, British, way. 'Oi dunnow abaht you, Liz, bat oi feel loik surming app wiv me stammack...cor bloimy, oi need a bog naa..', wailed John Flytip, 43, of Droylsden, on a day out in the capital. 'Oh , an oo are you, maahfin off as if you own ve ploice,actin all big n broo'el..oive sans that'd knock you aaht wiv 2 ands toied be oind vere back..sow don't start on me if you now what's good for yer', said Maggie, staring at young Jeff, who responded, ' you an ooze armoi? 2 ands tied be oind vare backs, where's the other and, an wassit doin?..', at which point Maggie was...

snoozer

stirred up further by the intervention of Maggie Scowling, who, having just finished her plum duff and custard, was derogatory about my cooking skills, unknowingly blaming me when our sous chef, Philbert , was to blame for adding sherry and pouring wine over the plum duff, and so I listened furtively as she said, ' the bladdy manager looks loik e ain't a decent stitch to wear..all these fanny wimmin cammin in ere, arsekin questions abaht vis, vat n vee avver.... this a terrible paddin..' 'Everyone happy with the food?', I asked,being as sickly, sweet, and fake as the situation demanded, 'anybody wants a second helping of plum duff..?' Jeff Ross, 25, from Marshes, opined that, given the current economic shambles in Britain ..'caused by Boris Johnson , oi fink it's amazing we can ave almost free plum daff ere..oi mean, oi sez to ve girw serving, oi sez, lav, oim stragglin to poi me rent, can oi ave....

..a man has needs..for space..to breathe..for truth.. and..I ..never..do..anything..that..may.. upset..you..Clothilde was married to.me..' 'Is..is ..is..' yelled Rosie, rushing...

cruiser

never

get you out of my hair..?.. ' 'All I wanted...I speak openly...was to ...retrieve you from the mess you are currently in..but now, with PiechartHaggis here and no doubt other people too..I am off.' 'Close that door on your way out then , and keep us warm..oh...and 500 k in a bank transfer by tomorrow at midday...' Clothilde agreed and left. Rosie was morose in her duties, feeding the kitties while having a grim,angry, saddened, face. I have to tread very carefully, I thought, and....

opened

' I just almost coughed up my larynx as the bloke..an old mucker of yours..informed me of your dalliance with some odd weirdo named Pythagorus....and I have had council tax people after me, I said it's in his name...who's this?', she asked, staring at Rosie. 'I am Rosie, soon to be his wife, and whoever..' 'What has he told you about me..well listen to this...' Clothilde produced a mini cassette recorder, the actual answer machine recordings...all I could hear was 'Oh. Clotty...oooh Clotty..you're so bossy it really.makes me....', followed by loud groans and then silence.. 'Ja, das ist right...he groans with pleasure into the answer machine when leaving message for me..now you Pythagorus..what..' 'Oh Johnny..who the blazes is Pythagorus ', wailed Rosie, while I said 'Orderrr..orderrr.. Mr Speaker...anyone..even my right honourable , inebriated wife..even she..must accept that I don't.. and never have..for any reason..gasped into an answer machine about Clotty bossy or something...that's not me..' 'OH Johnny..stop acting like an MP and tell..' Suddenly Clothilde looked really anxious...

business

, like Oliver Hardy before him, looked at an [imaginary) camera and said, ' well..here's another fine mess you've gotten me into..'. Trying to avoid laughing at his soaking , washed up demeanour, I scuttled out of the room, into the front of the cafe. Maggie Scowling, 45, from Crewe, was waiting for rhubarb buns with yogurt, when in strode..

office

daddy to aid us pecuniarily, if we require remuneration for the vicissitudes of modern hectic life in this post modern, post ancient,post it note era...but Johnny..are you going to show me a photo of her..this mystery wife of yours..aaaaarrrggggghh ', she cried, wailing in the back room of the cafe, causing waiter Cyril to run through, tray of roast 🥔 potatoes in hands, tripping over a box of.....

Hey Virginia. I see you described as a male in your profile. I thought y'all was a girl you know..?..puzzled 🤔 🤣

team

..to say..oh..you have once been..married..? I mean..' 'I have my dear..but only for a few years and , well, against my will..you see, I was on an expedition to save Danish wildlife, specifically the Great Danish hawk, Hawkus Danishcus,and the lesser Scandinavian starling, the Odense wheatear and the Northern Star muntjac..from extinction..and some evil Vikings kidnapped me and made me marry the wench known as ..as..Clothilde..' Beside herself with dismay,Rosie..