Our dear Mrs T relates a pretty incident:
Dear Harriet Harman, she writes, I really don't think you should run around naked smeared in goose fat, even though it would cover up your cellulose. I remember when Granny Prytherch ran past our house on her hundredth birthday, stark naked. I just caught a glimpse. "What was that?" I asked Mr Trellis, my late husband. "I don't know," he replied, "but it definitely needs ironing."
No comments:
Post a Comment