Naughty Letters to Ms. Mac

Countless noble souls (and many fluffy kittens) sacrificed their lives during the making of this blog. We think you will agree they were worth it.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Happy Mac-iversary, Baby!

Dearest Soulie Stella,

Three years ago today we met at the railway station in Dijon, for an explosive orgy of a picnic that was to seal our fate and destined us to be together always.

So today I'm having a little party (mostly in my head).

There will be champagne,

bloons (again)

and cake.

If only you could be here to share it all with me!

Congratulations on having tolerated three years of Soulie Bliss with me!

Sentimental hugs and sloppy kisses,



PS And if your damned internet connexion is fixed today, then you'll really be able to enjoy it!

Tuesday, April 29, 2008


The Lovely Aimee's new café and salon de thé.

1, rue Jean-Marie Jégo
75013 Paris

This is the best address in town, where all the smart young things congegrate...

List of Injuries Caused By Excessive Weekend Fun

- 1 ruptured funny bone caused by laughing at the The Lovely Doc rupturing her funny bone (and 14 of her ribs)

- 2 strained eyelids from wide-eyed appreciation of The Lovely Vivi Dispatches’ sublime singing

- 2 massively swollen tonsils from over-use of vocal cords when belting out disco numbers at full volume

- 2 bosoms suffering acute delusions of grandeur after having appeared on The Lovely Dumdad’s blog

- 1 severely inflamed ego from prolonged adoration of hordes of fans

- 1 case of glass spine syndrome (Ms. Mac), caused by ???

- 2 shattered ear-drums and 1 cardiac arrest provoked by anti-terrorist police exploding suitcase at my railway station

- 1 heart broken at The Lovely Ms. Mac’s departure

Monday, April 28, 2008

A Tasty Selection of Treats

Andi, I don't know why your picture is crooked. Perhaps the camera man was drunk...

I froze flowers in ice cubes to keep the champagne cold.

Dinner was marinated Greek-style vegetables, with grilled Feta cheese and filet of plaice with herbs.

This Bordeaux tasted fruity and oaky and only cost 4,50 euros! An amazing bargain.

Yes, I was wearing a Mickey Mouse band-aid on my thumb.

No, I do not remember why.

Best Grammatical Error On The Web Today

"We are working to get this website licensed so please bare with us..."

Honey, if you knew how to spell I might consider getting naked with you!

Full Party Report Coming Soon!

Dearest Ms. Mac,

I’ll bet you never thought that after spending four days in your precious company

(i) cruising the streets of Troyes asking pretty ladies “Are you lookin’ for a good time, Sugar?” ,

(ii) finding a pretty lady to abduct and take with us to a Den of Iniquity at 10, rue de la Charme where the madam was waiting hungrily,

(iii) heading to Paris, indulging in shopping, drinking, singing, and a Disco Musical Appreciation Gathering with voluptuous young ladies (and Julian),

(iv) enjoying a massive American Sunday brunch in an authentic diner and

(v) bussing out to the airport to deliver your sorry, broken-backed ass onto the plane,

I could possibly have time for any more excitement.

Well get this! I befriended a charming young American upon leaving the airport and offered to help him get his tickets and find the right train for his trip to Dijon (only out of the goodness of my heart of course. Nothing to do with his rugged good looks and manly physique). It was going to be a near thing, because the airport bus Nazis had inexplicably cancelled one of the regular shuttles to my train station, so he was running a little late.

We arrived at the station and just as we sprinted athletically to pick up his tickets, our path was blocked by a police barrier. We skidded to a halt, and were suddenly deafened by a very loud explosion: smoke and flames billowed sky-high, my heart burst literally right out of my chest (not a good look) and my ear-drums exploded into bloody fragments and dripped down onto the ground.

It turned out to be a bomb alert and the anti-terrorist pleece had blown up a suitcase belonging to an anonymous moron who had left his luggage unattended in a major Parisian railway station… I feel quite chuffed at the thought that in return for having caused travel delays for thousands of passengers, the rest of his trip will be spoiled now by a lack of clean undies.

Poor Mike from Boston missed his Dijon train, despite my good intentions, and so I was forced to offer him some hospitality by ordering two long, cold beers, while he manfully went back and stood in a chaotic queue to wrestle (with rippling biceps) new tickets out of the pissed-off ticket vendors. I was considering running off to Dijon and then Barcelona with him, but remembered just in time that I have clinging offspring, a grumpy husband and a dirty house that need my constant attention. Also, I am old enough to be his mother.

AND, whatever would you do without me permanently strapped to my computer, sending you advice, dirty jokes and recipes by email every day? I knew I couldn’t betray your trust in such a despicable manner. So I regretfully shook his hand, taught him to do la bise, and ran for my own train home. Sigh.

Tonight I will download all the incriminating photos taken during your debauched Parisian interlude, and then may the blackmail begin!

Naughty love and kisses,


Thursday, April 24, 2008

My Delicious Secret Is Here!!!

There was champagne

and bloons

and scallops

and cake!

Reunited and it feels so good
Reunited 'cause we understood
There's one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited 'cause we're reunited, hey, hey

Monday, April 21, 2008

Moanday Moans

Dearest Monday Ms. Mac,

Only three more sleeps to go until my Delicious Secret eventuates!

I do hope your week is getting off to a better start than mine. One offspring is sick and could not go to the grandparents this week. So I’m not getting any child-free evenings after all. Bah.

And I have 400 spams to delete from my inbox today! They are not even funny ones, offering me a bigger penis and a better sex life, but simply error messages about supposed delivery failures.

Oh wait though – here’s a good one:

Bend her over like Beckham

and another one, with actual penis photos.

Hmm, my day is looking up!

Saucy Love & Tabasco Kisses,



Thursday, April 17, 2008

Aha! I Actually DO Have A Secret!

Dearest Keeper of Secrets,

You know earlier, when I said I had a secret to swap, I didn't really have one, I was just making that up to trick you into telling me what your secret is! Anyway, never mind that. Now I do really have a secret that I'm not telling you. La la la! Torture me if you will, I will never spill!

Anyway, tra la la la la..... I was so disappointed when I tuned in faithfully to French news last night only to have my hopes of seeing you holding a banner reading, "I Love Ms Mac" and clasping your drama queen mug to your heart dashed. Pahhh! I strained my eyes to see if that was you hiding behind your boss's hair. She's grown it since the last time I met her (yes, faithful reader, I have met her and can still claim I know someone who was on French telly!). But I see that it wasn't and wouldn't be no matter how many times I rewound the footage of your boss. Oh well, it wasn't a dead loss because the bloke presenting the regional Alsace news was very handsome- almost worth learning French for!

So, secrets? Done. Antipo's tv career in tatters? Done. Handsome French newsguy? Done. I think that's all I got right now.

Loads of compensatory love and quisses in lieu of a career in film,


Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Wednesday Wow!

Dearest Light of My Life,

Things are humming and bopping around here today! I think a bullet point list is called for. (Please could you put the bullet points in for me, ‘cos my Mac won’t do it).

- Not only is my delicious secret getting closer and closer with every hour, but

- I arrived at work to discover I have a new client in Mexico (always nice to have exotic biz contacts, rather than bog-standard ones in Bognor Regis), and

- My hair is behaving today and I am rather pleased with the effect of my solar system necklace and tight burgundy sweater, bolstered up by my cantilevered, WonderBra’d bosoms, all in honour of this afternoon’s television appearance. The menstrual bloat has subsided, thank God, allowing me to grunt and strain my way back into my summer jeans. The reduced oxygen in my circulation has turned my lips only slightly blue. The lip gloss is standing by, to be applied the moment I see the news camera van arriving in the car park.

- If I only get three seconds of fame today, that means I still have 14 minutes and 57 seconds to come at a later date.

- Our Three Year Macaversary is coming up soon! Have you got me a fab present yet?

- Ballet class was great fun last night! My class is dancing in two numbers. The theme of the Gala is Professions of Yesteryear and Careers of Today. In the first half, my class is dressed as old-fashioned school mistresses, carrying a cane for punishment, and dressed in floaty, sober grey, yet feminine gowns. The movements are all precise, pernickty and delicate, set to classical music. Our second number is Firefighters! We dance to the Rolling Stones’ Paint It Black and perform lots of jumping, swaying and grandiose, powerful gestures. I will film and YouTube it eventually, just as soon as we have mastered the steps and are more or less coordinated. It’s still a fucking shambles for most of us!

So could you wish for a more news-filled communication from me to start your Wednesday morning? I think not.

Eagerly awaiting your tales of laundry room conundrums, scandalous offspring misbehaviour, salacious gossip with Trolley Dolly, and shock horror Swiss neighbours.

Muchos besos and Luuurve,

Missus Bouncy McBoingBoing


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Are You Down Off Your High Horse Yet?

Dearest Love,

Ooooh, you're ever so attractive when you're ranting from up high. You are absomalutely right. About everything. All of the time. Especially when it's about role model slebs doing silly things like taking drugs and killing themselves.

I grieved for you ever day that you were dead from your migraine. Praise the lord! for your miraculous recovery. It was my endless prayers to baby cheeses what done it.

I can't believe you won't tell me me what your secret is. Would it help if I told you that I have a secret too? We can swap secrets if you like, although I'm sure mine is far more salacious and deliciously gossipy than yours so you would have to owe me another secret at another time to make up for it.

So what do you say? Wanna swap secrets or not? No? Well fine then. I don't want to know your secret anyway!

Hurrumphy love and sulky quisses,


I Don't Usually Air My Opinions So Vehemently, Do I?

I read an article in The Guardian yesterday, and it got my hackles up:

A children's television presenter has died, a few months after his fiancée, also a children's television presenter, died of cocaine & alcohol abuse, an activity in which they indulged together.

The deaths are undoubtedly tragic. His almost mother-in-law was quoted thus "He's had long moments in the police cell with them blaming him for something he didn't do. He was treated like a criminal."

Excuse me, but doing lethal amounts of cocaine and alcohol with your girlfriend counts as "criminal" in my book.

Also his agent paid tribute to a "truly gifted" performer.

"He was blessed with a remarkable personality, great artistic talents and the wonderful warm ability to communicate those skills with people, especially children of all ages."

"With his sensitivity of spirit, coupled with his dynamic presence and natural enthusiasm, he was loved and respected by his adoring family, friends and colleagues everywhere in the media.""

If he was so talented, he should have had the wit to stay away from drugs, non? It's even more annoying that the pair of them were children's TV presenters! Try explaining to your adorable, innocent three year old why their fave TV person is no more!

Terrific, Born Again Tuesday

My Darling Ms. Mac,

As you may have noticed, I actually died last week from a killer migraine that lasted 4 days, but lo! I have risen again and am back from the Underworld.

What do you mean, you hadn't noticed?!

Also, the stress and overwork from recent Ballet School legal events may have contributed somewhat to my demise. We are teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, and may have to dissolve the association and quickly create a new one, if the children's Dance Recital/Gala in June is to go ahead.

So anyway. My delicious, mysterious secret continues to sustain me and gives me a reason to get out of bed every day. Have you guessed what it is yet?

Only ten sleeps to go!

Hee hee! Ha ha! Ho ho!

Malicious love and sly kisses,



Tuesday, April 08, 2008

What? What is it?

Dear Keeper of the Secrets of the Universe,

Please tell me what it is. Please? I can't believe you won't tell me what it is. It can't be that good that you won't tell me what it is. You're only keeping it secret because it's a rubbish secret, aren't you?

Or are you keeping it secret because it's so totally awesome it would blow my mind?

Gahhhh! I won't have it! Tell me! Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllll me!

*whines* Why won't you tell me? I won't tell anybody, honest.

Still won't tell me? Fine!

*slams door*

*sticks face back in to say, love and quisses, S xxx*


Dearest Ms. Mac,


I am hugging the most delicious secret to my palpitating bosom!

I am not going to tell anyone, not even you, as it is the bestest news in a long time, and I want to savour the anticipation and sensation of near-bursting all by myself. Also, you might get jealous, and I don’t want to spoil your breakfast with any of that blackish-green poison known as envy.

The only teeny-weeny black cloud to this MASSIVE silver lining is that I learned the news late last night and I went to bed with my heart beating too fast and a hundred million kajillion plans racing through my brain. So could I sleep? Could I buggery!

I tossed and turned for hours and eventually succumbed to the siren call of hard drugs. Well, just a half tablet of muscle relaxant actually. So now my body is melloooooow, which is nice, even if my phone calls at work don’t make much sense.

I am SO HAPPY! Life is all golden and glowy. Flights of wee angels clad in tiny, diaphanous designer robes are hovering just above my shoulder, sweetly strumming their little rhinestone-encrusted harps…

And I’m not telling anybody.

They will all have to suffer and let me wallow in my smug enjoyment of the moment!

Mwah ha ha ha ha!

Scintillating love and bouncy kisses!



Monday, April 07, 2008

Dearest Mrs Old Fogey,

I do believe you have me confused with some other, more elderly Soulie. I am not nearly old enough to remember Adrian Mole! He was on telly like, way back in the 80s wasn't he? I don't think I was even born then.

And George Clooney looks old enough to be my Grandad!

Yes, I can safely agree that children do indeed drive one mental. Also doolally.

Wacko love and batshit-crazy kisses,



Dearest Love in a Cold Climate,

It is sunny in the Village of the Damned today, how did you know? I was surprised because when I woke up this morning I too found a layer of snow covering everything outside. I say, "when I woke up" but really, I had such a bad night's sleep last night that the alarm sounding this morning was a bloody blessing. I tossed and turned for hours last night and then when I finally managed to doze off, the violent winds battering the aluminium shutters outside the window with icy snow woke me on more than one occasion. It was horrendous!

I am so pleased that you made it in to see Aimee's new place. I can't wait to be sipping a cafe or perhaps a kir royale on her terrasse one day. Oooh, look how I even made that sound a little bit dirty!

I have to run some errands this arvie. James informed me yesterday at approximately 5pm that he required a special kind of calcumalator for today's maths lesson. Do you remember The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, when Adrian's Mum wrote a note to the teacher saying, "Dear Teacher, Adrian was late for school today because he did not get out of bed until 10am." or something? Well, we did the same to James in an attempt to shock him into the same universe that we live in. I don't hold out much hope.

Patrick has called me this morning to inform me that he forgot to ask me to sign a maths test of his. He has cooking classes over his lunch hour so he is sending his friend over with the test so I can sign it and he can bring it to Patrick in the afternoon. I hope he brings it before he goes home for lunch because I am dressed and ready to go now and can't bear waiting for these sorts of things.

Don't children just drive you mental?

No more news and certainly nothing even remotely naughty to report. I hope to have something of interest when I come back from the shops. Perhaps I'll run into George Clooney in the Migros or something. Which reminds me, how handsome does he look here:

There's a whole load of other photos from his career here too. The grey, the eyes, the beard, the swarthy! Oh my, I have to go and lie down now.

Love and kisses for now, my dear,


Witch's Tit Monday

Dearest Ms. Sunny Soulie,

I am scandalised and outraged that a thick layer of snow fell on my roof, my garden, and my entire village overnight. This is not why I pay my taxes! It should not be allowed! The worst thing is that our cherry tree blossomed just last week, so I’m wondering if the snow has killed off all my tiny cherry embryos.

Luckily, my heart is all warm and smooshy today, thanks to our fab visit to The Lovely Aimee's new café and salon de thé in Paris yesterday.

I was so excited by her professional success that I went all mushy on the poor girl. I hope she gets over it soon. I’m sure the busy-ness of her working day and sheer exhaustion will wipe away the memory of me squeezing her to my bosom in a ludicrously over-sentimental and gigantic hug.

Of course this should be a good incentive for you to get your trans-Alpine skates on and VISIT me soon, so I can take you to Aimee’s for tea, brownies, lunch, champagne on the terrasse, or all of the above.

Have you got the hint yet?

Write soon Lovey, I am sooo lonely without you!

Hot & cold love & kisses,


Friday, April 04, 2008

Back Already!

Dearest Two-Blogs-In-One-Friday Lady Blogger,

Yes, I am back from the X-ray X-travaganza already. "Wha... how... whe....?" I know you're astonished that I should be back early so I should explain. You know my Dr LovelyArms here in the Village of the Damned? Well, he is all equipped for lots and lots of different tests and probes that may be required of his patients. We walked into the surgery and as soon as she had finished up her phone call, the receptionist/nurse opened the door and took James from me. I waited in the waiting for not more than 3 pages of my book and James came back. We then had to wait for approximately 7 more minutes for the film to be developed and we were done. How fantastic a service is that? I once had to have a ECG. I had visions of being sent to an obscure clinic in the middle of nowhere, a la Australian Healthcare, and being made to wait for hours while machines broke down, emergencies came and went and the parking fees shot astronomically through the roof. I worried needlessly. My ECG appointment was at 8am with Dr LovelyArms' father. I showed up, was taken to the ECG machine immediately and was outta there by 8:30. It's magical.

Now we're just waiting for Dr LovelyArms to tell the surgeon that he has x-rayed Jamesey's arm and for the surgeon to inform us of a date for the operation. Knowing James' luck, it will be during the upcoming spring holiday!

The only unpleasant thing about the doctor's office today was sharing it for a few minutes with a wee girl and her fathr who were there for nothing nearly as glamorous as x-rays. She had an incessant cough which drove me up the wall. Cough, cough, cough, snivel, whine, Papa.... it went on and on and after approximately 30 seconds I was ready to put her out of my misery. Luckily she was taken to see Dr LovelyArms before I could get my hands round her scrawny, sick little neck. Although I do feel for the poor little thing. Coughing can be exhausting.

Hurrah! Hurrah! 'Tis the weekend! How I wish I were spending it with you in your Utterly Quaint and Picturesque Village in France. But it's not to be. I shall spend all weekend dreaming of you my dear, don't you worry about that!

Love and sublime quisses,


Dearest Pungently Repugnant Darling,

Still no sign of my mojo, but one bears up as best one can during these difficult times.

Re: your sexy leg of lamb

Phwooar! You might need to get your pores steam-cleaned after that extreme garlic treatment! Will it ever be safe for me to visit you again?

Interesting tid-bit: did you know that I always keep 40 Swiss francs in my wallet? It's just in case you come charging here on your white steed one day, and spirit me away to Swissyland till happy ever after. And we mightn't have time to stop at a money machine. Mind you, I don't suppose 40 Swiss francs would buy much us more than a small cup of tea and half a digestive biscuit (to share). But still. Isn't that sweet of me?

Poor old Jamesey. Fancy having to be poked and prodded by Swiss doctors again AND with the added indignity of his materfamilias tagging along. Just don't make him wear clean underwear in case he gets hit by a bus, or try to smooth down his cowlick with your own spit or anything even remotely fusspotty.

I shall be standing by the phone in case you need to send emergency sxt msgs describing how you accidentally on purpose bump into Dr Lovely Arms at the hostable: "Herr Doktor! Mais quelle surprise to see you here!" and then you suddenly feel faint and swoon graciously into his waiting lovely arms, while flicking back your luxuriously glossy hair at the most fetching angle. Or perhaps you will dial the emergency services with your bum again. That would be fun.

My afternoon is dragging slowly by, with only the hope of some excitement from you to make it bearable. Mind you, we are due for an Easter lunch at my MIL's house on Sunday. This means I'm hoping to persuade Mr Grumpy Blackheart to stop in Paris on the way home, so I can pop in and grace The Lovely Aimee's new Parisian café with my divine presence. And that would make you just a teeny bit envious, wouldn't it? And then I could have something to gloat about on Monday morning. There is something to look forward to after all!

I'm so bored today that I'm considering scanning some very old photos of my dear self to post on the blog, thus inviting international scorn and humiliation on a grand scale. You can expect to see "Worst 80s Perm Evah" and "Totally Shapeless Baggy Stonewashed Jeans With Pixie Boots", “Moon-Faced Antipo With No Fringe” or even "Ruffle Necked Blouse Teamed With Navy Blue Pinafore" before the weekend is over. Be there or be square, Babe!

Come and save me from myself very soon...

Mental lurve and extremely dotty kisses,


Dear Madame Mojo-less,

I'm afraid you've hooked your horse to entirely the wrong coat-tails my dear for I have absolutely nothing naughty to report.

I did have a bit of a weird dream in which I was having a (fully-clothed, unfortunately) conversation with Jake Gyllenhaal about how excellent an actor Australian Anthony LaPaglia is. In it I said something along the lines of, "But of course, Jake," and I shook back my luxuriously glossy hair and pouted, "Anthony's finest work was in the Australian drama, Lantana. But you know that!" What Jake didn't know is that I haven't even seen Lantana and was merely trying to impress him so he'd ravage me. He didn't. The alarm went off.

I loved your bum shot. I think I'll leave it at that.

Yesterday I read perhaps one of my favourite Russell Brand quotes ever, "So what if I sexualise things? I'll sexualise you in a minute!", which I found in comments of the Dlisted Hot Slut of the Day link that someone who remained nameless (you!) emailed me yesterday.

Last night I roasted a wonderfully luscious and sexy leg of lamb. Having poked holes in the rich, red meat with a knife, I deftly poked chunks of garlic down into the orifices which sent a delicious garlicky flavour through the finished product. With it, I served roasted green asparagus spears with hollandaise sauce and my extra-special roasted sweet potato & garlic dish. You would have thought it was Christmas, the way the food was received. It felt fab! Of course, with all that garlic, we Macs are rendered repugnant to everyone except our own sweet family. But do I care? Do I fuck!

I am taking young Jamesey out to have his wrist x-rayed today to start the ball rolling for the operation to remove the metal plate in his arm. I will take my book with me to read in the waiting room because James just seems far too cool to have his mother actually attend these events with him any more. I shall let you know how it all turned out later.

With much love and many hopes for your mojo to return,


Flagada* Froiday

Dearest Sunny Swiss-Dweller,

Irony? No! Where?

Darls, what am I going to do to get my blogging mojo back? I think I need some inspiration from my Number One Muse, i.e. YOU!

The only thing that has happened to me today is that I am baffled by a news report from Lille that an 11 month old baby girl has died from malnutrition. Her parents are strict extreme vegetarians (eat no products from living creatures whatsoever). There is an apparently healthy 9 year old sister. Supreme irony: her parents own a Health Food Shop. Oh yes.

Has the world gone mad?

Inspire me with some naughtiness soon my Dear.


Dozey lurve and baffled kisses,



* Flagada = weary, apathetic, floppy, washed out, frazzled, inert, clapped-out, drained, zonked, blah...

It's one of my favourite Frog words! Along with bof ! and crac-crac !

P.S. By the way, there is a photo of my bum on my other blog today. It took me several attempts to get my bum in the shot. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to photograph one's own posterior? I bet you've never tried anything so naughty.

Oh hang on though - there was that one time when you sent me a very shocking and explicit - My God! it was so.... I was all breathless and ... wow! words just fail me!....

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Scandal and Gossips R Us

Dearest Love,

I do indeed have lots of lovely scandal and salacious gossip to share but unfortunately, none of it is publishable lest I be hung from the highest yard-arm for treason!

Instead I have the following joke to brighten your day.....

David and Victoria Beckham were on holiday in the depths of Louisiana. Posh wanted a pair of genuine alligator shoes, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking. After becoming very frustrated with the 'no haggle' attitude of one of the shopkeepers, David shouted, "Maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator so I can get a pair of shoes at a reasonable price !"

The shopkeeper said, "By all means, be my guest. Maybe you'll be lucky and catch yourself a big one !"

Determined, David and Posh turned and headed for the swamps, set on catching an alligator. Later in the day, the shopkeeper is driving home, when he spots Becks standing waist deep in the water, shotgun in hand. Just then, David sees a huge 9 foot alligator swimming quickly toward him. He takes aim, kills the creature and with a great deal of effort hauls it on to the swamp bank. Lying nearby were several more of the dead creatures. The shopkeeper watches in amazement. Just then Becks flips the alligator on its back, and frustrated, shouts out, "Bollocks Princess, this one isn't wearing any shoes either!"

Lots of love,


Dearest Cruella, April Fools Dominatrix!

Hello my naughty Husband-Scaring-with-Fake-Spiders Soulie!

I nearly larfed myself sick at the suffering you put poor old Mr. Mac through!

Otherwise NTR in my dishwater life.

Just call me LameBrain and be done with it.

I do hope you can brighten my day with some juicy scandal soon.

Muchos boring besos,


Tuesday, April 01, 2008

All Year Round Fools!

Dear Lovey,

Nobody has April Fooled me yet but I think you might get a wee giggle from the following. My darling son, the younger one of the bookends, gave me a nice wee surprise the other night when he left a giant black plastic toy spider on my pillow to frighten me. It didn't really work as such but I managed to make something out of the joke anyway. When poor Mr Mac was just about to doze off that night, I slowly but surely brought the spider closer and closer to his face until eventually, I touched his face with one of the legs, the big spider face staring right at my dear husband. Of course, Mr Mac opened his eyes to see what was touching him and when he saw a big, black hairy spider staring him down, he nearly hit the roof from fright. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. Ahhh, the good times.

Not quite as funny as when I pulled back the shower curtain one morning after sneaking into the bathroom ever-so-quietly and shouted the South Park classic song, "Shut Your Fucking Face Uncle Fucker" very loudly. That frightened him so much he was barely able to brush his teeth until after taking a valium. But the spider prank was still quite successful.

Poor Mr Mac. And yet he still comes home.

I am going to be v. busy today. I have already been out walking in the cold and mist and drizzle and now I must ready the homestead for a coffee date with Trolley Dolley this arvie. I will try and check in later to see what you had for lunch.

Love, love and April Fool love,


Tell Me Summat Funny

Dearest Fooley Fool,

Has anyone played any cruel jokes on you yet?

Not me of course, I am deeply unimaginative when it comes to administering cruelty to my besties.

Am rather disappointed that nobody in my office has seen fit to make a complete pillock out of me yet.

But good things come to those who wait!

Jokey love and droll kisses,