My pal is not flavour of the month in his house … and what’s new I hear you ask.
His wife, The Wicked Witch of the East, came home after an exhausting five hours in her local beauty salon and he asked what she’d had done.
Well, they do say love is blind (unless you’re talking about Celtic and Scottish football referees), but if brains were dynamite my pal wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose.
“I don’t know why I bother,” she complained. “How will you feel when my hair turns grey?” He told her: “The same way I felt through the seven other colours.”
To say that The Wicked Witch has a face that would bring tears to an onion would be to invite the wrath of the nation’s veggies.
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