Mrs Vagabond's mum is ace.
She's in her late 70s, and her Southern Irish accent is so thick I sometimes have trouble understanding it.

ADVICE: She once told an ikkle Mrs Vagabond that her left hand was "the one that's closest to the wall".

ORNITHOLOGY: Her and her brother were staring out of the kitchen window a few months ago at the garden. Her brother said "Great tits, Peg."

Then desperately "IN THE HEDGE!"

THE VET: Her dog's current vet is, apprarently, rather a handsome young fellow. The first time she took the dog in, the vet happened to be passing through reception, and so did the checking in. Name of the dog, age of the dog, etc, then "Sex?" Her mind went completely blank, and all she could see was the word "Sex" going around her brain - nothing naughty, just a usual, run-of-the-mill memory blank. Her response? "I'm sorry, but I just can't stop thinking about sex."
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 14:23, 1 reply)

Cheers
Now I have to wipe the guffaw splutter phlegm off my monitor :)
( Yell Whoop continued to be a nin-com-poop on, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 16:10, closed)