We need to talk
A while ago I'd had a miscarrage and needed some surgery to remove the remainder and fix the damage that had been caused by this.

So I'm lay in a hospital bed, waiting to be wheeled into the operating theater, when my ex decides to start with the "we need to talk" line.

Him "We need to talk"
Me "Can this wait till after the surgery?"
Him "No, is the baby (insert his best friends name here)'s?"
Me "What? No? Why are you asking me this now?"
Him "So I know whether to wish you well or dead"

And it still took me 3 months more to get rid of him, I blame the emotional trauma.

Bastard
Oooh girth
(becca_kitten Is odd at best, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 18:53, Reply)

Recently had a 'we need to talk moment'
....with Frankspencer

I sat him down and tried to put across to him the futility of becoming personally aggrieved with a complete stranger on an internet message board.


He just started wanking.
(Andrew Avetoom, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 18:48, Reply)

This was a glorious fuck up.
Lived with a bird and her husband (I was the lodger at the fuck up age of 20/21) She'd had several miscarriages and a still birth trying for a family. On the last count I gave her emotional support (the sex was fine an' dirty an' all) and she divorced her husband and we move in together. Friends of ours Jack and Jill have their third kid. Jill haemorraged during child birth- no problem for most birds- but Jill is born with one lung (no problem for her throughout her life- her body adapted well) Yet the blood clot lodges in her lung and fills it up with blood, with no extra lung to rely on Jill drowns and dies. ( this all takes place within six months) After Jill's funeral miscarriage bird says "we need to talk" Jack and her had slept together after the funeral. Blew my mind. But I didn't blame either off them as it was all pretty fucked up anyway.

Then I fell into a song and dance as I slipped into the radiant rainbow as the clouds broke, the sun shined and all was at peace with the world:)
(Dellamorte Dellamore Fuck it all, fuck it up, fuck it., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 18:40, Reply)

Claire
Claire was a pal of my best mate's missus. Claire and I had been seeing each other for a few months. Claire was something of a headstrong and uncompromising lass. Claire and I weren't really going anywhere.

Anyway, she announces that she wants to go on hols with her friends for a week. I'm not the jealous type so it's "okay, have a nice time".

No postcard, no telephone call and no dodgy Greek souvenir later Claire returns and we spend a highly unsatisfactory day together. Then she decides we need "a talk". At this point we're in the car and she's telling me stuff like "I needed a week break from you" and "What is it with you!?" not to mention "Why aren't you fighting to save this relationship". Astute observers might notice the theme whereby every wrongdoing on my part is rubbed in my face and indeed it was apparent that her proportion of responsibility for any relationship issues amounted to 0.001%.

The character assasination I received lasted twenty minutes of relentless criticism and bile. At the end of it I was too exhausted to stop the car in the middle of nowhere and order her out of it. So I just drove her home and left it at that.

Then my mate slips that Claire had shagged two Greek barmen while away on holiday (oddly, this little indiscretion did was not mentioned in favour of blaming me for absolutely fucking everything). Three weeks later she calls me "childish" because I refused to speak to her when we bumped into each other on a night out.

Now, before you do as I did then and judge Claire harshly for her Blair-esque levels of bare-arsed arrogance the karma fairy stepped in and evened up the odds.

Claire pissed off for a year spent travelling in Oz so I avoided any unfortunate "having to be cordial with the ex" situations. During this time I developed a gym addiction and landed a plush new job. Fast forward a year when Claire appears suddenly amidst a night out sporting a faux Oz accent.

"Gah-die" she said

"How are you keeping?" I asked

"Thiz iz Styve" she introduced her new b/f

Oh my God... The humiliation... Steve was oddly reminiscent of "Donk" from Crocodile Dundee. He wore a battered brown leather jacket circa 1989 and was something of a salad dodger. I'm not terribly vain but in my head I was thinking "Him.... Me....?" trying to find any logical explaination as to how I explain that my ex who has supposedly moved on to better things drags along a neanderthal with personal hygiene issues. How could I possibly be ranked below him on a desirability scale?

Karma fairy struck gold once again as Donk turned out to be a workshy gambler. She quickly got pregnant and was reduced to raising a child single handed while Donk spent what little money he earned on horses and greyhounds.

She's still with him, too stubborn to turn her back on her lot. Donk, for all his faults has done something I never did. Spunked a fortune on a greyhound and named it after her...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 20 Apr 2007, 18:30, Reply)

My twunt of an ex
who I have touched on in previous QOTWs, holds the record for this.

Picture the scene: I was out wandering around town on my own, minding my own business, and I spy boyfriend a few feet away.

Boyfriend is with a woman a couple of years older than me. Boyfriend has a little girl who is the image of him sat in his arms. Boyfriend catches sight of me, and the look on his face said something like "Oh cock."*

So, not wanting to fight in the middle of the street with a bunch of chavs egging me on, I go home and send him a text saying "So, the child." He agrees to come and talk about it, and the gist of the conversation is something like "I like to keep my private life private. So, sex."

Click "I like this" if you think I should have spanged him.

*Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary my ex is not James May.
( Maladicta, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 17:54, Reply)

We need to talk
My old house mate was too wet to tell me that he wanted me to move out.

I got the "We need to talk" as a text message as he drove to the other side of the country for a week of work.

Laughing I sent back "That sounds serious! ;-) You want me to move out? LOL"

He never answered, I found a new place.

He came home a week later and we had a talk, I told him I was moving out.

The bastard gave me notice and said "I just can't cope with you, you are so... different. We can still be friends though.

He was on the phone two days later as I was moving into my new place. "My girlfriend left me..."

Was it wrong to laugh?
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 17:47, Reply)

Well
There was two that stick out...

My ex girlfriend when she decided to tell me that she'd been cheating on me with her best friend and had decided to leave me for him...

and my current girlfriend when she told me that she was moving to New Zealand with her parents...
(danecobain I have a new sig!, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 17:32, Reply)

Aww fuck...
do I ever have a lot of these!

Okay, a bit of background first: my ex comes from a family with two kids, just her and her brother Rick. Her dad died in 1991, so she only has her mother and brother. Her mother is a sweet tempered ditz, kind of a Doris Day/June Cleaver/Edith Bunker as viewed on acid, someone you can't really get angry with as she's off in her own fluffy little world. She's a fanatical Catholic who I think very nearly became a nun. Her brother is a rather abrasive individual who has never had a girlfriend that anyone knows of. My ex and I used to debate whether or not he was gay- if he is, he'll never admit it, especially considering how much it would freak out his mother.

We used to go meet up with her mother now and then for lunch when we were living about an hour away. While it was nice enough, it invariably went the same way with her mother saying, "Now Lynne, have you heard anything from Rick? You know, I worry about him- he never calls, and when I call him he never really wants to talk about anything." And invariably my ex would fill her in on whatever little she had heard recently from Rick.

As we were driving out to one of these lunches I was saying to my ex how predictable the conversation was, and recited the above bit to her. She acknowledged that it did get a bit monotonous, but said that I was exaggerating. I shrugged it off as we entered the restaurant.

We had just gotten our drinks when her mother said the above bit, verbatim. My ex was struggling to keep a straight face through this and glared daggers at me for it as I sat there quietly smiling. When her mother finished my ex had just taken a sip of her gin and tonic.

Ever just have one of those moments when you give in to an impulse? Without missing a beat I turned to her mother and said, "Well, Lynne thinks that Rick is gay."

My ex inhaled gin and tonic and began coughing, my mother-in-law's jaw hit the table on its way to her lap, and I sat back and drank some beer in anticipation of the now much more entertaining lunch conversation.

There was lots of talk after that, and I was thoroughly yelled at by my wife, my sisters and my mother over the course of the next week. I simply smiled quietly and nodded, and relived the moment with the gentle glow of a job well done...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 17:06, Reply)

*pssst*
Hisses my mum. "we need to talk". (I'm 12)
She ushers me into the front garden. She points rather furiously yet quietly at a green piece of rubbish - a sanitary towel wrapper.
"why the fuck can't you be careful? That's fucking disgusting! Pick it up and put it away."
"it's not mine"
"yes it is. why is it in our garden then?"
"it's NOT mine!"
*still hushed* "yes, it must be! now stop arguing and pick it up and don't do it again"
"Mum, it's NOT MINE"
at which point the neighbours can hear.

20 minutes later everyone in the street can hear us yelling at each other. I eventually give up and pick it up, shove it in the bin, and go and sulk.

The thing is I hadn't even started menstruating yet at that age.

Way to go to my mum for giving a girl a complex about the blob though.
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 16:18, Reply)

I'm generally pretty non-confrontational.
I'd have to say The Talk. You know the one - your parents finally twig that you're a growing girl with hormones and things and they need to instill some old-fashioned values into your impressionable little mind.

Well, sod that, they left it to public education until I was sixteen so they can bloody well leave it all the way and spare me the embarrassment. I was an early bloomer and an antisocial nerd (for some reason people think those are mutually exclusive...), so I'd read all about it already in any case. Although I suppose pornographic fanfiction isn't all that accurate.

Still, it beats sitting on a fence while my grandma seriously cajoles me in Russian about the advantages of not spawning young until I'm Absolutely Ready, I'll tell you that.
(Lieutenant Colonel Oblivious brought to you by intravenous sugar, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:58, Reply)

In the style of Brady
I was cycling with my biro when she started to emit the high-pitched register of the wartime enigma decoding machine. "Sheila," I said - for that was her name - "We need to talk. I understand that you are an inanimate object, but that doesn't stop me from talking to you."

Having established that my post was 'zany' and 'creative', I proceeded to the next bit. Sheila was tall and thin, with a tube of ink going up her centre. She was hard-tipped but easy on the paper. When I say paper, I mean paper. That's a confusing image isn't it? If you squint a bit and bang your head until you're insensible, you might think it's clever. Try it!

Did I mention that the bike I was riding was fashioned from sausages and balloons? Or that we were on Venus, having flown there in my rocket wheelie-bin. That's funny isn't it? Cos, you know, sausages and balloons don't really go together and Venus, is, like a different planet. And 'wheelie-bin' is quite a funny word. Like avocado.

"Sheila," I said, I will make you a fountain pen if you tell me that you liked Duran Duran's 'Girls on Film' video. Sheila turned into a worm and conducted asexual reproduction. I covered my eyes -all five thousand of them. Did I mention that I was an insect?

Conclusion: any tosser can write this shit.
(frankspencer, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:58, Reply)

"We have to talk"
.. is what I can hear the wife composing in her mind right now.

My litany of crimes percieved and real is endless.

* Just this morning I walked off with "her tabacco" - it was in the place where I leave mine and she normally smokes straights.

* I'm too fat and won't loose wieight for her - if she wasn't a f**king chef who has either been cooking f**king lovelly food for me at home or making me go and eat at her work place, or didn't come home and make me go to the pub for last orders and then sit around til 2 am just "having a quick drink" then maybe I wouldn't be

* I drink too much - see above

* I don't work hard enough - the number of "her induced" hangovers make this somewhat likely (see above) - well excluding the hours spent on here, arrse, funtrivia, etc etc - so she may have a small point - then again I never do that when I'm not hungover

* I don't pay her enough attention - I would if she wasn't always at f**king work earning a f**king pittance with a boss that has seen her coming and now does f**k all ... so what if he has a new kid - he still has a business to run

* I once had an affair - true - was forgiven - allegedly - and now can never, never be allowed to forget I was shagging a "fat, ginger, emo"

* I'm not allowed to wash her chefs stuff - mind you I'd have too leave her a map and directions on how to do it herself - and still have to hang the stuff up myself.

* If her mate moves in I'll just want to bang her - we'll don't move a mate in who is allegedly "a 6 foot leggy blond, late 30's, bangs like a barn door in a gale" if you are using all the above excuses to starve said husband of sex

* I waste money - hah - bought the 747 for complimentary peanuts ... not sure she gets that one!

Length - I could have done 1,000,000 words - but I still love her!
(Biff..., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:47, Reply)

well
my father announced the other weekend:

"of course, there's a very good chance your grandmother's a lesbian".

i wasn't sure whether we needed to talk or he needed his head read or i just needed my mind scouring with boiling water to get rid of that image. i don't think all three would do it, to be honest. shudder.

(for the record, she's tiny, 82 and just doesn't like him very much...)
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:43, Reply)

Bit long, bit of a rant but it gets to the point eventually
3rd of January 2005, spent most of the Christmas and and a few weeks before going through the final stages of a 4 and half year relationship. Spent the 3months prior thinging 'how the fuck can I get out without losing to much????' We had a house, cat, debt.....the usual shit. I suspect (very fuckin strongly) that for the week before Christmas and over Christmas she was cheating on me with a work colleague. I was pissed off at having to fork out for both our familiys presents, wrapping them all, decorating the house, cooking dinner ON MY OWN etc. In return she gave me a used PS2 game in a plastic bag!!! Not even wrapped!!!! Anyway, as you can imagine once everything is over, Christmas and New Year, I flipped. I ripped the decorations down while she sat and watched with a look of worry, shouted a few things at her (like her staying out all night Christmas eve night was plain fuckin pisstake etc etc) and stormed off to the pub. A few words where said along the lines of 'I'm sorry blah blah blah' when I got back but I wasn't really listening. Anyway next day, 3rd of the month, she's up before me (having had her sexual advances rejected by myself the night before). She sits on the edge of the bed and utters the words...........'WE NEED TO TALK'. I grunt and roll over for an extra half hours kip. This was about 2 in the afternoon. By half 3 I'm dressed, packed and on my way back to live with my parents :-)By March she was living with the guy from work who I think (pretty fuckin sure now) she was shagging behind my back. I came out tops in the long the run while she now lives with him in a manky little flat, drinks far to much, has a rep for being a fucktard and gets the odd smack from new bloke. I now live with a gorgeous fiance in a little cottage with a fat cat and a nipper on the way!

By far the best (in the long term) 'we need to talk' experience of my life
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:24, Reply)

Christ
My mum said "we have to talk".



Apparently taking the guinea pig to school in your satchel isn't a good idea. They piss on your maths textbook. Oh noes.
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:21, Reply)

My boyfriend: Peter Niss
I tried to talk to my boyfriend once. I said, "We have to talk." That conversation ended badly. I was screaming and choking him, he was spitting at me, and yet all the while I felt a kind of pleasure knowing that we were fighting so viciously in public, yet despite the stares of the children and their mothers, he didn't back down from unleashing his full attention on me. He was always faithful in that way. Moreso than any other partner I've had since then. I am forever indebted to him. Wherever you are, I miss you. I dedicate this post to P. Niss
(Alexxx It wasn't me, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:04, Reply)

Honey, I need to talk!
I am sorry but I have had enough!

I have heard everything you will ever have to say and I am bored to fucking tears by the same old drivel you spout every single time I see you.

I find you irritating, boring, stuck up, joyless, wimpy, unadventurous, repetitive, possessive, unimaginative and crap in bed!

I would like to say “let’s stay friends” but it would be a complete lie, I couldn’t even tolerate your faults when we were sleeping together!

Have a nice life
Please never call me again.
Minty



**Now could someone please e-mail this to her, I am too scared!
(Minty Hit, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 15:03, Reply)

When I started divorce proceedings
I was surprised when a letter arrived for him from the solicitor within the week.

So I opened it, confirmed that it was his notification of my intentions, typed up another envelope, reposted it and did a hasty I'm-divorcing-you-so-expect-a-letter-any-day speech when he got home.

To my surprise, he was so shocked that his legs gave way and he flopped down on the sofa.

Wish I'd moved it out of the way quick.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:57, Reply)

Classic "we need to talk" gag
HER SIDE OF THE STORY
He was in an odd mood Saturday night. We planned to meet at a pub for a drink. I spent the afternoon shopping with the girls and I thought it might have been my fault because I was a bit later than I promised, but he didn't say anything much about it. The conversation was very slow going so I thought we should go off somewhere more intimate so we could talk more privately. We went to this restaurant and he was STILL acting a bit funny.Tried to cheer him up and started to wonder whether it was me or something else. I asked him, and he said no. But I wasn't really sure. So anyway, in the car on the way back home, I said that I loved him deeply and he just put his arm around me.I didn't know what the hell that meant because you knowhe didn't say it back or anything, this is really worrying me. We finally got back home and I was wondering if he was going to leave me! So, saying "we need to talk" I tried to get him to engage with me but he just switched on the TV,and sat with a distant look in his eyes that seemed to say it's all over between us. Reluctantly, I said I was going to go to bed. Then after about 10 minutes, he joined me and to my surprise, he responded to my advances and we made love. But, he still seemed really distracted, so afterwards I just wanted to confront him but I just cried myself to sleep. I just don't know where I stand and I don't know what to do anymore. I mean, I really think he's seeing someone else and that my life is a disaster.

HIS SIDE OF THE STORY
Hibs lost. Got a shag though.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:55, Reply)

erm... honey?
There isn't a single girlfriend of mine who hasn't been subjected to this chat...

"There something that we need to get straigh between us..."

*worried look*... "what is is baby?"

*Humpty fiddles with his own Crotch*
"There we go.. That's better. *hug*




I hope I never grow up.. :o)
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:44, Reply)

We have to talk...
I've been reading your collective posts for a few years now and I have to say some of you are really really sad fuckers.

Unless you start having better luck I just don’t think I can stand your pathetic wingeing much more. Maybe if you were more confident and fun to be with you’d have better luck and we could work things out.

Thanks for the sex.
(waxdart hello., Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:41, Reply)

We need to... what?
This dates from before the lovely Mrs. God and I were living together. I came home late, after a couple of days travelling, so I'd been away since early Monday morning. It was now Thursday. I walked in to find Mrs. God posing alluringly in skimpy underwear on the bed. She fixed me with the twin beams of her delicious norks - er, I mean *eyes* - and said, firmly: "We need to shag!"

"Don't you mean *talk*?" I quavered, sitting next to her.

She didn't.

Nor did she mean "talk" the next time, about an hour later.

She didn't even mean it the time after that, which made me almost late for work...

I had to do a customer demo of a highly complex computer system, using three computers, to most of the board of a valued multi-million pound customer. With the flattest 'nads I've ever had, and a red-raw cock. And a very very silly grin.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:37, Reply)

ANOTHER girlfriend who'd prefer to drink from the furry cup...
If anybody decides to go out with me, never dump me drunk, otherwise you get things like this:

"We need to talk...."
"Lesbianssaywhat"
"What?"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FUCK OFF YOU BIG FAT MINGE EATER!"

I'm not proud of it
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:35, Reply)

CSI
When I was in my final year at University, we had a little obsession - CSI Tuesday. NOTHING got in the way of our viewing, not even revision.
So when he kept calling me, on a Tuesday evening, at about half nine, I obviously kept rejecting his calls. You'd think he would have known, after almost a year together, but no.
Eventually the text came through - "we need to talk".
I believe my reply went something along the lines of "if you really want to hear me say you're dumped, then call me when CSI has finished".
Cruel, perhaps, but come on - 21 calls in 9 minutes???
(Flutterby doesn't give a damn about her reputation, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:33, Reply)

Dare to be different!
I was at my ex's one afternoon, collecting little one, when she says "We need to talk".

"Er," I replied, whilst my brain is busy handing me information, such as "She can't be dumping you - she's divorcing you anyway!" and "Run! Run for your life!"

Turns out she wanted to get back together...

I didn't, and left with my dignity and trousers scraped but intact.

How's that for a turnup for the books?
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:32, Reply)

I get this one alot
"we need to talk...........



......your ass........stinks."
( Krog3r has acquired some deceant lurkage, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:25, Reply)

We need to talk to the author and culprit....
No word of a lie, we had this email sent around out office this morning (and I quote verbatim):

"A member of this Company has just committed an act of the most unacceptable disgusting behaviour I have ever had the misfortune to witness!
In the Gents 6th floor someone has excremented (and not just a little bit) on the floor of one of the cubicles, has trodden in it and just walked away! Obviously it has had to be cleared up! My staff are NOT employed to clean this type of mess and I would not have expected this to have occurred! Whoever has done this I hope you are ashamed, it was extremely unpleasant for us especially as ladies to go in and clean it up!"

For me this raises four questions;
1. To the culprit - why did you undertake aformentioned dirty protest?
2. Again to the culprit - why did you tread in it?
3. To the email author - Why was she a witness?
4. Also to the email author - Is excremented actually a word?

By the way, no-one has been around to sniff our shoes yet.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:20, Reply)

We need to talk about your sandwich.
I work in an after-schools club that goes full time daycare over the summer. I work with a bunch of tit-heads that think they can dump 14 kids aged 5-12 into a swimming pool and bugger off for tea and fags leaving them in the care of the lifeguards, because none of them has the nerve to don a swimming costume and actually look after the kids, or even thinks to round up the kids and bring them outside when the fire alarm goes off, things like that, so I'm very much trusted and sent on all field trips and they'd be screwed without me.

We have a minibus driver who took his much deserved 3 weeks off last summer, so my boss asked me (as the only other person with a licence) to drive the minibus for those weeks. She couldn't do it because she'd be "too nervous". I pointed out that I didn't have a PSV licence and had never driven anything that size before but I basically wasn't given a choice. Drive the bus or else. So I did. For three weeks I took the kids and a couple of my co workers (who actually are lovely people, just crap at being the grown ups)to the Giants Causeway, Stormont castle, Folk Parks in Omagh etc. I'm 5'1, by the way, and it was a workout for me to reach the pedals and handbrake.


Summer scheme ends and everything goes back to normal. Round about October, I was late several times in one week and the boss calls me in with "We need to talk". I go into her office and immediately start into "I'm sorry, I know I've been late, it won't happen again" etc. No, that's not the problem. I'm being warned for gross misconduct, she says. Gross misconduct?! I'm very taken aback. I pride myself on doing my job very, very well. I also work with other peoples precious babies and was very hurt and upset. What the hell have I done?

Turns out I'd taken the minibus out on my lunchbreak to fill the tank and been seen buying lunch for myself in the service station when I paid for the diesel.

Of course, I immediately tendered my resignation as I'm obviously some evil, dangerous, lunch-purchasing cnut who shouldn't be allowed anywhere near kids lest they witness me consume a sandwich or a mars bar or something equally innocence-shattering. I was told that wouldn't be necessary, but that the warning would go on my record. I suspect my sarcasm went unnoticed.

She ignored my questions about "Didn't you once send the bus to the airport to pick your entire family? And get a lot of stuff taken from your house to the dump? And have it decorated and driven down the road for a parade?". Those are perfectly acceptable things to do with a school minibus, it seems. But buying a sandwich (all service stations should have a Subway... mmm) while paying for fuel is bang out of order.

It was three months after the event too! She'd sat on the knowledge of my heinous behaviour for all that time because she kept forgetting to mention it to me. The woman is utterly, utterly insane. And foriegn. I'd look for another job but the boss is emigrating home at the end of this summer so I won't have to put up with her insanity anymore and intend to start bullying my new boss into running things my way before she can settle in.

I expunged my own record 2 days later too. Now *that's* gross misconduct.
(posthumous mince is tiptoeing through the tulips, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:16, Reply)

And how classy am I..
Another girl and I'm the dumper, not the dumpee. So I call her up

'Hey'
'Hey baby'
'Erm, yeah, we need to talk'
'okay, what about'
'How about we meet in Wetherspoons?'

So I dumped a girl in a wetherspoons. In Stratford (East London, and not the groovy part either). How good must she have felt?
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Fri 20 Apr 2007, 14:11, Reply)