I think the black gay footballer from ‘Footballers’ Wives’ portended only pestilence.
I woke up this morning and felt as rough as a bear’s astrakhan coat. Thinking that I would clear my head and go in to work late, I set off and got as far as Hammersmith before a wave of dizziness swept over me, and I was forced to go back home, but not before I’d bought a Boris Karloff Frankenstein jigsaw for £2.00 from Tiger Tiger.
The Ugly One rang when I got back to tell me that he also was feeling queasy and on his way home.
So, we slept the afternoon away and then caught up with Corrie. I’m getting a bit tired of Mad-Eye Moody, who’s taken over Mike Baldwin’s Knicker Factory. Nobody likes him, apart from Carla, and even she can’t see his bulging eye, which I suspect is fitted with a Satnav Gaydar system. Even Ted, David Platt’s gay grandad, hasn’t spotted it yet.
What’s wrong with these people?
And what is Dev up to, making the beast with two backs with Nina, an ageing alleged Bollywood star? I’m finding this storyline very unwholesome, particularly as I suspect that Nina’s creepy husband Prem is lining them up for some kind of kinky Asian threesome.
They should give more lines to Amber, Dev’s wise-beyond-her-years daughter, who seems to know more about life that Dev will ever know.
Sinbad’s wife can go too. I cheered when they chucked her out the first time, and my heart sank when they let her move back in.
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