OH PARAGUAY!
Many's the time that someone has cut me down to size with a witty put-down only for me to retaliate with an even more devastating blow of immensely brutal-yet-humorous proportions...five minutes after the other person has turned around and disappeared. "And that's what I would have said..."
Well, that didn't happen to me this week. What did was that England beat Paraguay - hoorah! - and at the time I failed to capitalise on my position as possibly the only Briton to have recently gone out with/shagged/broken the heart of a Paraguayan.
A was 21-year old nymph with minge more ginger than a gingerbread man's and more freckles than join-the-dots puzzle. She was sweet, but not for me - when we went out I actually declined to sleep with her on the grounds that we should wait. The relationship soon disintegrated and it was only then, free from emotional attachment, that I felt the obligation to give her a thoroughly good seeing to.
Anyway, so I sent her a brief mail, whose contents can be summarised thus: ahhhhhhh - we beat you. 1-0, 1-0, 1-0, 1-0.
She wrote back to tell me that she's getting married in December. What? Another one. In the past 12 months not one, not two, but three ex-girlfriends of mine from the previous year have got engaged and/or married.
Avid readers of this blog will be aware of the theory I posited several weeks back, that going out me was a guarantee of marriage with someone else within a year. Well, here's yet more proof.
Luckily for me I'm still going out with Z the sprinter, and we show no signs of running out of puff...
Many's the time that someone has cut me down to size with a witty put-down only for me to retaliate with an even more devastating blow of immensely brutal-yet-humorous proportions...five minutes after the other person has turned around and disappeared. "And that's what I would have said..."
Well, that didn't happen to me this week. What did was that England beat Paraguay - hoorah! - and at the time I failed to capitalise on my position as possibly the only Briton to have recently gone out with/shagged/broken the heart of a Paraguayan.
A was 21-year old nymph with minge more ginger than a gingerbread man's and more freckles than join-the-dots puzzle. She was sweet, but not for me - when we went out I actually declined to sleep with her on the grounds that we should wait. The relationship soon disintegrated and it was only then, free from emotional attachment, that I felt the obligation to give her a thoroughly good seeing to.
Anyway, so I sent her a brief mail, whose contents can be summarised thus: ahhhhhhh - we beat you. 1-0, 1-0, 1-0, 1-0.
She wrote back to tell me that she's getting married in December. What? Another one. In the past 12 months not one, not two, but three ex-girlfriends of mine from the previous year have got engaged and/or married.
Avid readers of this blog will be aware of the theory I posited several weeks back, that going out me was a guarantee of marriage with someone else within a year. Well, here's yet more proof.
Luckily for me I'm still going out with Z the sprinter, and we show no signs of running out of puff...
posted by David Cohen at 7:50 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home