Why is it impossible to mention a woman’s name without people assuming, well, everything? And why can no amount of reasoning sway people from those assumptions, however facile?
You see, I’d thought, being in my mid-twenties, that questions along the lines of, “are you going out, have you shagged her yet” were at least a decade gone. It would appear not. I find this a little sad.
I find it equally depressing that my refusal to be drawn on such matters invites such ridiculous conjecture. Perhaps I should just pull the hair of the girl I like, push her over in the playground and do away with all the speculation.
Ye gods.
Are we there yet?
Can I have a pony?
Daddy, why have you got Mummy’s pants on ?
That’s it, no ice cream for anyone!
Well don’t blame me Papa Whyley when I grow up and become an ice cream terrorist, okay?
Like those chaps in Glasgow?
Eh ? Excuse my ignorance…fill me in James
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glasgow_Ice_Cream_Wars
Thankyou, I’ve been enlightened! You have such a broad scope of knowledge…an inquisitive chap aren’t you…
I think I’m probably more of a dullard to be honest.
I rather like that word.