Last Night…

Was…. ummmm…. interesting. That would definitely be the word. Yes it would. I was babysitting you see…

Twas the summer of 1912 (except it was actually last night) and my chauffer came and collected me from outside my humble abode in one of these new-fangled ‘horseless carriages’ to whisk me to my destination. Upon arrival, Ientered the abode to find my young charge a most amicable chap, and to this end I did gift him a Game Boy, of the colour variety, and some power cells with which to facilitate the use of the aforementioned. With the mother of this merry fellow was a plump lady, rapidly devouring the contents of a bottle of cheap chardonnay. She was already rather squiffy.

Anyhow, the mother of the child had designed and created a most exotic dish of a spiced variety. (I believe it is known as a Ku Ree) and left me awonderful selection of the finest stout in the refridgerator. Upon bidding her adieu, the young fellow and I observed the movements of a young, rather unfortunate, chap called Harold Potter on the telly box, before watching a delightful documentary about a young fellow named Charles who pays a visit to a confectionary works (I have to say, however, that much of the machinery used in this establishment seemes highly dubious. I am sure health and safety will have something to say on this.).

The child eventually removed to his crib. At this point I read a most charming book upon the subject of neuropsychology- aphasia is such a charming subject. Well, the time came to that point in the early morn when two bells may be heard calling from our delightful cathedral, and indeed, the mother came, rather unsteadily, through the door way. I must say she was a touch inebriated, and to this end did repeat herself most regularly, staggering and slurring as she did so- a most disgraceful, if shamefully amusing, figure she looked indeed.

She eventually found a suitable seating position, and did force me, not entirely unwillingly, to collect for myself a bottle of ale (this happened repeatedly throughout the night) and she attempted to construct some form of coherent conversation- at this she was only partially successful. Well, it came to pass that the two of us were sat talking upon the hearth rug, when the lady in question did repeatedly make comment toward how ‘luvly’ I was. I took this to be the harmless banter of the alcohol imbibed mind, but morewas to come. She did keep hugging me and did, with malice of forethought, purposefully hold my hand on more than one occasion. Indeed, she kept pulling herself to me and making lacivious looks and comments. It must indeed be said that, much to my amusement she:

WAS TRYING TO GET IN MY PANTS!

The End

Love Tom

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