Where’s Me Shoe?
Posted by Paul Woodhouse at October 9th, 2007
I honestly couldn’t believe the nightmarish vision that came upon me as Steph picked me up from work yesterday.
Granted, she’d emailed me to let me know that she might be late as she’d decided to get her hair done.
And done she has been. I opened the car door to be affronted by this:
Myra Hindley.
I mean, get me a bottle of peroxide and colour me albino……
You’ve got to get to grips with the concept of not going to Wal-mart to get your hair done. And you’ve also got to get to grips with not spending $100 for the privilege. Her barnet even managed to wake me up this morning as it tricked me into thinking the sun had risen a couple of hours early. Man, it’s sent my whole body clock out of whack.
Anyway, just so you don’t think I’m an evil little Ronnie, John forwarded me the following picture that he’d been asked to send to some magazine. He’d plucked this beauty out of his top drawer.
John on the left and me on the right.
I have no recollection of this particular picture being taken which means it must’ve been after an impromptu business meeting at the Cock Hill. I can assure you that I don’t always look like I’m about to start licking a doorknob unless I’ve been swigging their Stella.
I knew I shouldn’t have left media communiques in their incapable hands.
Although, it’s no small wonder he didn’t send them his photo of him looking window licking good.
