First published at the time of the General Election.
Oh yes….and that is the hat trick, get in the back of the net! Due to careful planning I have missed all three parliamentary broadcasts; in fact I managed two curries and a night out with Paul Merson instead of sitting and watching the three degrees of torture! What have I missed? By the way, the night out with Paul Merson is a long story and one I will have to clear with my solicitor, his solicitor and that of this fine paper before I tell it. What I will say is, that the evening started badly for me by introducing him as Paul Merton and that he appeared at Arsenal, Middlesbrough, Aston Villa, Portsmouth and Burger King. Still, I managed to out strip him over the first thirty five yards. That will teach him to have extra fries….
I have been having trouble with my eyes lately, I had lost my sunglasses some three weeks ago and have been wandering around looking like a constipated sniper, ever since this fine weather hit. Coming from an Irish background, three cloudless days and I go baboon’s bottom red. As well as not being able to see a thing, my eyes water and stream even inside a building or the shadiest corner. So, last Monday, I could take the pain no longer and purchased an ultra cool pair of shades from the High Street in Ivybridge and wandered back to my car. Slipping them on, I noticed that my left eye was still very blurred and being parked right outside my opticians I decided to do the sensible thing a book an appointment. Wandering into reception, I spoke to a charming young lady, explaining the blurry vision in one eye thing and she looked at me sympathetically. I suggested they might want to check for conjunctivitis, stigmatism or maybe even a brain tumour. She suggested I took the price sticker off the left hand lens. I did! The condition cleared immediately.
It does not however explain my misreading of the ‘lonely hearts’ column in this very paper last week. In a bored moment I flicked through the list of the lovelorn and read… blond, bubbly, love’s country walks 22 blue eyes. That must cause an awful problem at the opticians, I thought. No wonder the poor bird can’t get a boyfriend with 22 blue eyes. There must be very few things with 22 blue eyes apart from the Swedish World Cup football squad and the Tasmanian Wolf Spider. I used to live in that part of the world and believe me the Wolf Spider is the last things to write to a lonely hearts column. The females are huge, with hairy legs and have a tendency to eat their mates after sex. Although the 48 year old brown haired beauty from Ernesettle who was advertising in the same Lonely Hearts column did boast two out of three of those same attributes.
Yours sincerely
Fitz
