After the Bonfire night party on saturday some strange items revealed themselves.
Now your host has his favourite armchair but had to give it up to the guests in the interest of being a gracious host. So the following is not mine.
On Sunday afternoon whilst sitting in the said armchair I felt coins starting to slide out of my right hand trouser pocket. Quick as a flash with a reflex action my hand shot out (years of training in preventing beer glasses sliding off bars on ships stood me in good stead), and reached down beside the cushion.
The horror. On withdrawing my hand I discovered a freshly worn pair of tights! Now I’m the only person who normally sits in that chair and I know they’re not mine, (Wrong colour) so who’s were they and how did they get there? I was the last person to leave the room the evening before. Maybe a mouse had found them and decided to make a nest for the winter. I then forgot about it.
However the plot thickens.
This morning after visiting my local shop to buy the paper and support the government with their tax revenue by buying my daily dose of cancer sticks, I found another disturbing item.
After returning home after negotiating a tortuous route as usual to avoid Attila the Hen (The school crossing lady), and negotiating the complexity of FE towers security system, I went to hang up my coat.
Quelle Horreur .
My coat hangs on the lefthand hook of a bank of four. However out of the corner of my eye I noticed something strange about hook number four.
After inspecting them my mind began to race (First time for years, believe you me), what debauchery has been going on in my home?
Your mission if you wish to accept it is to decide who the perpetrator of these atrocities could be?
Could it be:
My Brother-in-law (Is he a secret transvestite?)
Me (Actually don’t go there)
Female friend from around the corner.
My son (Oh god No…….)
Mother in law. ( 66-1 against. You try to get your knickers off unseen whilst using a zimmer frame).
My two son in laws (Oh god No…….again).
The blond, busty policewoman, who’s last words to my eldest daughter were “Your father’s amazing”.
It’s over to you now.