On Holiday in the South of France we spent the day in our swimming cosies amongst 5000 others. Here is a cross section of the bums I encountered there. Bottoms to suit all tastes I’m quite sure. I’ll do more men next week to make it fair.
I wrote this poem after speaking with a friend about her experience and perception of herself as a bridesmaid:
I found a box of eggs on the carpet in the corner behind the curtains. They were 2 months past their use by date and like small grenades ready to go off at any moment. I knew immediately who the culprit was. But I didn’t expect Such a total lack of remorse, she barely blinked at the question and continued to stuff her fistful of crisps into her fat little chops.