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Whadda ya mean, Bucking Bronco?

Might have the gang round for supper next week. Bronco, my mad lezzie pal, was deeply underwhelmed at the news that some folk we all met last week at a jazz concert had believed that we were married, hence the Bucking Bronco.

Jazz Trukette 

I mean to say; ‘hello?’ She’s even bought herself a truckette to go with her Doc Martins – spangled obviously. I can’t wait to see what happens to the inbuilt Elsan when she has to make an emergency stop. Still; the inside is coloured beige, so it should all match just fine. Boy was she one unhappy bunny. Not that I enjoyed her discomfort; well; maybe just a wee bit…

Pin Back your arse [del Ed] Ears

Perhaps I ought to explain the matter of me, my ears and arse, all being together at the same time at a jazz recital. I’m more a Vivaldi/ELO/Black Sabbath kind of guy. But it’s all to do with supporting Valkerie. Who is learning how to play the Saxophone. Don’t even go there. Freud would have a field day, except she’d probably decked him after he made the first pass at her. 

I think she may also be into amateur dramatics and choral singing, but am too discrete to ask.  Probably writes poetry when no-one is looking.  Church sort; and yet, being a church-goer myself, I would have believed that of all people, Valkerie would have thought there was already too much suffering in the world without her playing the alto sax.  Apparently it gives her stiffer lips…

Misty Eye

Nearly made a tit of myself again. This time in Asda. Went to get some bits of chicken for the dog; only Fern’s just a wee bit dead these days; all right? Arsehole
This all got me thinking about my recently passed partner, Fianach (fee-anna). Which got me upset. Just like me typing this pish right now does. 
I hate everybody … AGAIN!
by John J McCabe