We stopped at tesco on our way to Wimpole Hall to pick up some sandwiches. There was an old guy in a convertible driving in front of us that just nonchalantly turned and parked astride the dividing line between two parking spots, basically taking up two spaces so his precious penis extension didn’t get dinged. I wanted to yell at him for being such a prat (I’m grumpy today. I blame the time change) but Katy wouldn’t let me.
So, inconsiderate old fart, whoever you are, may pigeons use your shiny white head for poop target practice.
