I really don’t think I need buns of steel. I’d be happy with buns of cinnamon.


Good morrow,

I hope you are well. You, however, find me in pain. The aching, soul crushing, full body pain that can only come from an unwise partaking of exercise. But what could I have done to leave myself feeling like an arthritic octogenarian after a sex session with Catherine Zeta Jones? Did I run a marathon or undertake some extreme ‘Iron man’ test of physical endurance? Oh how I wish I could tell you that I had. In actual fact it was two hours of ice skating on the pretty outdoors rink at Broadgate Circus, thus adequately adding insult to injury, and providing further proof, if indeed proof were needed, that I have let myself go of late. Still it was bloody good fun and I have a horrible suspicion I may well do it again… Sorry legs.

Anyhoo- you are here for the comics are you not? So please let me not detain you any longer. Continuing on from Sunday’s theme I give you:

The Flea Amigos

 Thanks for stopping by.

Bx

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