The phone keeps ringing in the dead of night.
Just as I am about to finally drift off into the world of 'Z', it shrills through the silence like a hot chip in a tub of lurpak.
More often than not it's Constance once more. To bring you up to speed Ms Gooselane and I have become something of an item over the past week, and I have spent a lot of time in her abode; helping her with odd jobs around the house like fixing her pipes.
Then all of a sudden things got physical. She brushed her dainty femme hand across mine as I was plugging her U-Bend. I turned slowly and kissed her, completely oblivious to the hot jets spurting all over the kitchette floor.
Now she calls in the dead of night. Strange noises come over the line. She cries and asks me if I love her. It's all becoming very serious very quickly. God, I only contacted the woman about Fanny, but she seems to thing I want something more.
She has become very insecure and needs constant reassurance that I am not going to disappear like her ex husband Ted Underwood III.
I strain to comfort her, but my eyes sting like I had dipped them in Rowat's pickled cabbage. Time to sever the link methink.
An exhausted RB.
