I used to lodge with a mad now-ex friend of Mrs Vagabond.
She's mad in various ways, but this pretty well sums her up:

I was just out of university, and as such poorer than a poor church mouse who's wife has run off and taken all the cheese.

As such, the offer of a large room and all bills for £50 a week was an excellent offer, particularly considering I was currently on £60pw + bills.

So I dragged together my deposit and van fees, and moved in, and thus I was once more pretty well broke. I took my last remaining £10, and did a grocery shop for the next fortnight.

I came back, and she was having a fag in the living room, doing quite an impressive imitation of a 1950s boarding house landlady.

"Hi Vagabond" she said, as I lumbered past, laden with bags, "I was thinking of having a Chinese tonight - what do you think?"

"Sounds good," I said, "Chinese is great."

"You up for it, then?" she asked, "Fancy joining me?"

"Nah mate," I responded, "I'm broke - I've treated myself to a bit of fish for tonight, and then it's skinnyville from here on in" I said, indicating my bags.

"Oh right!" she said, suddenly furious, "Thanks for thinking of ME!"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 10 Jan 2011, 9:15, 1 reply)

You are without doubt
a neurotic-female magnet. Your only salvation is to join a monastery
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Mon 10 Jan 2011, 11:05, closed)