Well what a turn down for the bookies and no mistaking. I am not able to give my name because we are speaking now with the one voice – the voice of the Sisterhood.
Oh yes.
Not either am I also able to advise of the situation of the man ‘George’ – suffice it to say.
He is personna non gratified around these parts.
But anyway I am glad to be opportuning to talk to you in the flesh – so to speak.
Our organization is growing by the yard. Sisters Norah and Greta being our latest recruits.
Our sister in charge, Georgina – no, I mean CHARLIE – wants the blog to have more of a political slope. We have just had the local elections and we have all voted – except me (for reasons I am unable to divulge at this moment in timing – and no, it is not because I am too young, though often being asked to produce identity when purchasing the alco-pops down the wine-bar).
Anyway it seems poor old Mr Blair’s lot have not done so good. People are saying it has much to do with Iraq conflagration – personally I do not know. My brother, Sven, he call the Middle East the arsehole of the world, so what, I am asking myself, is why Blair wanting to go poking nose in there?
But I am not a political animal, and no doubt is easy to snipe from the sidelines but when you got to run the show is different matter. It must be very difficult so I do not understand why anyone want the job – especially the Brown person who seems to have a nice number going, handling all the cash without any of the responsibility. But Greta says that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I say, well that is as may be, babe, but where you find time in that game for the hanky panky? That is what I ask. She refer me to Mr Plunkett (man with dog) who she says managed to put it about even with worries of Homely Office plus difficulties with vision.
I am even less au fate with the American politics, but the Bush man seems a good, clean living person - bit different from the Clinton person - always blowing his saxophone - and he is pal of Tony’s, so maybe he find him a job when he quits No 10 Downing Street. He probably feels sorry for his pal having to live in a Terraced House while he lives in a big white mansion.
Well I think that is enough of the politics for now.
It is a warm, sunny May day and I am going to divest myself of my clothing and bathe in the sun. The man next door, they say is paediatrician – well maybe if he watches me for a bit it take his mind off his unhealthy thoughts. Always thinking of others, that’s been my undoing – several times. But never mind: all in a good cause, eh?
