Conversations

Now, The Dame's mother and I share, what one might call, a special connection. In other words, she hasn't a clue about my cock hunger and wants me to marry The Dame in order to save her daughter from the doom that is, more so after reading her latest entry, lesbian induced. For as we all know, if she accepts that her daughter is a lesbian, she will, of course, become one herself.

Failing that, she'll wonder whether it was her fault that he daughter loss of sense of normality. Or whether she ate something too big during her pregnancy which, whilst she was in the womb, pushed The Dame far too close to the vagina. Mothers eh! It's all somehow about them.

Needless to say, the poor Dame is suffering at the hands of many fucked up emotional fuck-witt women. I do however firmly believe that it's one of those bad patches of evil luck. A couple of female-less months will do her the world of good, providing her with a new source of energy with which to combat later in the future.

So, I've somewhat drifted. The point I was wanting to make was actually this...

On the phone to The Dame a few nights back, I could hear her mother say something in the background. On listening more closely I could hear

'You're not my favourite boy any more!'

I'd imagined, at this point, that The Dame had, to save herself the humiliation of my marriage proposal, told her mother that I'd been sucking cock for a few months.

'Never mind' I said, 'The love in my heart is enough for both of us S****.'

'I can't believe you like Camilla! Off with you!'

There it was. The Dame's mother had dragged the monarchy into our little friendship circle. A Camilla supporter could never marry The Dame.

'I love Camilla', I howled over the telephone speaker, 'she's dignified and knows how to play her part. She'll be a fantastic queen. and Diana was a gobby cow'.

Now, I could have been a little more diplomatic in that last sentence, but The Dame's mother caught me off guard.

My love for Camilla is fairly deep rooted and my admiration for the 'other woman' is something that'll never diminish. Fact.

'Oh S****', I said.

So I'm no longer a favourite of The Dame's mother. And a previous invitation to The Dame's yard for a Sunday roast was shoved quickly and firmly back into the envelope. Sigh.

If I do ever see S**** again, I'll have her on this one. I will.