Had my usual, weekly telephone conversation with dad yesterday. He has started his diet – again.
“I was really good Tuesday and Wednesday but then today, I had a chocolate cake,” he admitted.
“A chocolate cake?” I had visions of him gleefully ordering a full size birthday cake and wolfing it down in one, a la Miranda from Sex and the City.
“Well, it one of those Mini Roll things, you know.”
“Oh, well that’s not too bad then, is it? They’re only little.”
“I had two.”
In other news, it had taken The Bigot fifty-five years to learn the definition of the word ‘twat’.