O.M. G!!!!!

I hate text abbreviations, yet I am so gobsmacked that I shall indulge me-self.
I  L.O.L  about five minutes ago when I heard some utter idiot, browsing the tut, whingeing about having to cancel their holiday in Egypt.
W.T.F?
Apparently those 'selfish savages' have ruined  her holiday by their 'unreasonable' behaviour.
Now, it is not my place to re-educate the general public. (Thank god Mrs. Pankhurst is on honeymoon.) but I really do think someone who has reached approximately sixty years of age would appreciate that the people of Egypt are actually protesting for free and fair elections. When you chance getting shot in the head just to vote things must be pretty grim. Whilst I am sure that those same 'unreasonable savages' would be very pleased to have her grace their country with her plenty pounds and condescending manner, I am even more sure they would like to elect their own leaders.
Let it not be forgotten that once-upon-a-time, not everyone in Britain was able to vote and just last year a number of voters were turned away at polling stations. So, whilst madam is busy condemning a nation struggling for it's rights just because it buggered up her holiday, the less stupid of us should keep one eye on our own voting system and cast an admiring glance at people forcing change the way our great, great grandparents did.
So G.F.Y madam. Don't make me L.O.L at your selfish ignorance.

Handbags and hermaphrodites.

It's done, Miss Pankhurst is now a married woman. What a beautiful bride, what a lovely day and what a dignified man the Fiance, rather the Husband, is. We had an emotional roller-coaster of a day, tears of joy and quite a few of laughter. My heart went out to the staff at the venue though.
One unfortunate young man was subjected to snatches of conversation at our end of the dining table that included, a misunderstanding about one of us being a hermaphrodite and two of us swapping banter about farting in each others faces. All innocent lady like conversations when not taken out of context. However our credibility took a dive on discussing our handbags. Tit tape and gas powered curling tongs that resembled a marital aid emerged and the poor fella nearly dropped the sorbets. One could have cleared up the misunderstanding, but the mental image of chasing a waiter around a wedding breakfast waving gas powered curling tongs kept us sniggering in our seats.
It's back to reality now with only the memory of that wonderful day to keep us warm against the chill of the customer. Mind you, the arrogant young dandy that pushed past me on the escalator raised a wry smile yesterday. One of the handrails wasn't working in time with the steps and as he went for a well practised casual pose, designed to expose maximum tight buttocked-ness in his low slung tight black pants and his pointy shoes, he was spun around and clattered off the thing into mens wear with all the elegance of a wounded gazelle.