I popped out this into the Garden this morning to help the Cat fasten her Harness, as she's recently taken up an advanced tree climbing course, something about a Blue t*t Box on the top branch I believe, when I had the feeling I was being watched. Sure enough, I turns around and I see my Neighbor staring at me, wearing a see through Nightie, pouting like Bardot, and beckoning to me to follow for some Rumpy Pumpy I assumed. Well, Balls to this methinks.
"Look John," says I, "Pack it in all right?" He wasn't to be deflected however, my rebuttal simply drove him agog, as he leaped over the Hedge and started rolling around the grass in front of me, gasping, in the throes of Amour, purring like a big fat Tabby.
"Take ME!" He squealed in a Star Fish position, I backed up some and gave a fine kick where the Sun doesn't shine.
"I'm not giving up that easy," he minced, and he trumped off back to his house.
Even now, I'm eating some Ready Brek and I can see him marching up and down a makeshift Catwalk, cooing and fluttering his eye lids. Midlife Crisis, ignore him the Wife says. But I'm not so sure.
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