Me Dad was telling me the other day about the time he was forced to sit in on a talk about sexism in the workplace. The woman doing the thing rattled on for about 3/4 hour about how and why this unpleasant archaic practice should be eradicated from the workplace in the modern day & age. At the end, she asked if there were any questions from the floor. Quick as a shot me Dad put his hand up and said "yes, will you make us a cup of tea and iron this shirt for me, love?" That's what he told me anyway, it's probably bollocks again like most of the stuff he comes out with. I'm still not entirely convinced that he did actually once come second in a sexy bum competition either. Pooh count: two, the most presentable one of which I'm sending to the FA as I hear that there's a vacancy going and I think it might be in with a shout.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.