Sunday, 2 December 2018

If sun-loungers could talk



First from left: "Bollock's innit. Y' sit out there - rain, sun, blizzards 'n shit, puttin' up viv all shapes and sizes then soon as y' get a bit manky, that's it. Bastards. Could 'ave repaired me back leg - bit 'a gaffer tape, a hose-down, job's a good'n."

Middle: "Oh, I don't know . . . one can get a little tired of the pool-crowd - continually being splashed with Prosecco and Ambre Solaire, and, quite honestly, I could have done with occasionally being left to get a tad manky. Bleach does such appalling things to one's epidermis."

Left: "Uh? Sorry. Miles away. I was just remembering the afternoon when the swingers came. Should have seen the water - surf's up! and the mess afterwards . . . Course, I experienced it first-hand you might say. Any of you ever had a threesome occurring on your slats?

Far left: "Oh, shut up."





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