… flounced! I mean very close. I nearly picked up my bakewell and fucked off, then realised I would need a trolley and it was in my van. Am now back after a self imposed exile for a day ( and a bit ). I was angry, but then thought it’s only another cunt in the sea of many cunts.
Banana gif girl has saved me from oblivion.
My flounce will be held in abeyance, further proof (if any were needed) that I am not ginger as those fuckers fly off the handle at the drop of a hat and hold a grudge that is easier measured in geological time.
Seriously though, it’s like falling off a horse. You have to get straight back on. Before you know where you are your Bakewells will be looking like this
(with huckleberries, marcona almonds and creme fraiche sherbet, allegedly, as served at The French Laundry, Yountville, California).
I mean very close. I nearly picked up my bakewell and fucked off, then realised I would need a trolley and it was in my van. Am now back after a self imposed exile for a day ( and a bit ). I was angry, but then thought it’s only another cunt in the sea of many cunts.
