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in The potting shed
Most of my friends know that I enjoy a wee tipple. OOOPs perhaps I should rephrase thaht, in lite of my present medical status. A tiny drahm, before going to bed. Now then you luverly lot. Get the old imagination going. Imagine this...'Wise, handsome young looking chap. Me Sir? no Sir I never tell fibs. However. Here stands Mike.....in the shower cubicle. Starkers..............now there's a first. Except for a pair of wellies. The shower base is flowing over with single malt. Don't panic guys. I've put the plug in. For your immagination only. At some future point. Mike might be found, head down, supping up the golden nectar. Sorry folks. I forgot, I am supposed to be in the nuddy. So Michael, I hear the distant drone of Matron. OOer are wow whatever. Sorry Matron. Mike is having a wee....not in the shower, Matron interrupts. NO Matron.. I mean. I am doing a bit of celebrating, all on my own. What the blazes are you celebrating. Well Matron. It is down to those pills. You know. The tiny pink ones with orange stripes. Well the long and short of it. I have been advised thaht I have been accepted and addmitted as a plant pathologist. OK Michael. Take yourself down to the medical stores and get a wider belt.
Just a bit of whatever folks. But the outcome is true.. Please friends. Please don't ask me what you plant died of.....please.
Well done Mike. Must be a great feeling .
What a guy.