Looks Like Wolesely, but....

...Smells like Capri.

Woken at stupid o fucking clock this morning, by who else but ....Joe.

"Are ya around taday, or whaever?" says that miserable poxbottle of an unwanted alarm clock.

"For fox ache, Joe, its 7.45 of a Saturday mornin, what the fuck do you want?"

"Just a few schnapps of the Vintage Club rally, its for de charity...."

"Fuck you, and evverywan who looks like you" says I, "What time?"

"Arra, eleven or so will be grand....."

"This'll cost you dinner for two, steak AND chips" says I, and went back to sleep.

It ended up being a five hour job, cos Joe also wanted a multimedia presentation at the meal afterwards, but...all I had were pics, so....

I projected the slideshow, and ate a free plate of curry and chips while whistling "The Sally Gardens", on stage, and throwing the odd Flatley for good measure.

Who says men cant multitask?

And thats multimedia, isnt it?

And what the fuck does the cheap bastard expect in a few hours? Balto's Got Talent?

Annyway, I persuaded this rather nicely turned out girl out of her vintage comfort zone inside the Wolseley for a schnapp or two.

She smelled like childhood comfort blanket memories, and every teenage kick you ever thought of....

She really should have been in a Capri....