Taking the Pith

My poor tongue is bloody and battered. I've been biting it hard all week.

This morning, madam was prancing around in front of the mirror, in vertiginous sparkly stilettos and a figure hugging silver dress. (Actually, 'hugging' is the wrong word. 'Swallowing' might be more appropriate. It couldn't have been any tighter if it had been a tattoo! )

"Djoor papa an' me are goin' golf cloob dance this evenin'. Djoo could come too, but ees bery formal," she looked at me sadly "and djoo are too fat to borrow my dresses, djes?" Not if I used one for each leg...

She turned sideways to admire herself in the mirror. "Bery theen, bery sexy," she declared. Yeah, if an animated safety pin is your idea of alluring...

The dress was cut very low. Her collarbones protruded like a couple of coathangers covered in leather. She obviously realised it, because she frowned and said "Maybe shows too much boobs. Djes, they are bery perky, no' gone saggy like djoors, but all the men will be lookin' at me, an' then the womans get bery jealous. Do djoo theenk I sould cover more?"

Absolutely, I thought.....let's start with your mouth.......