25 June 2006

Limp wrist to the fore.

I'm told this front-man commands a huge sum and is adored by heteros and hoteros alike.

I like him because he speaks such crisp Greek that even I can understand him.

I am *told* that if I acquire too much of his vocab, I will be a cinch for a free pass any Thursday to the Golden Lyre club off the Liston.

Never one to pass up a Free Pass, I shall nevertheless await the arrival of my daughters before taking up the offer.

Then we will sweep in à trois and The Spitfire will guarantee us a ring-side table.

Decisions decisions: shall I wear the chiffon or await to see what my darlings wear and work my usual drag of jeans and T-shirt ensemble around *them*?

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