Good news, good news, bad news

Good News.
Mr Fixit called in yesterday and although the Espresso machine was working I wanted him to check it out anyway. Well the verdict was that the machine was in fine fettle (despite the bastards at the Quality Coffee Co., Bigtown telling me that it was beyond repair). He gave me great maintenance tips and I was so impressed that I actually broke the habits of a lifetime and tipped him out.

Good News II

The second piece of good news is that I have been invited to judge a beauty pageant! How sweet is that? The organisers obviously realise that I have a fine and discriminating eye for the ladies. I am also anticipating that a little bribery won't go amiss here. I am certainly not above allowing a potential beauty queen from developing her full potential in a sans frock situation. If you think that I am being gauche then let me float this past you. Next time you watch Wheel of Fortune, make a mental note of the best looking babe on the show, watch her win and then ask yourself if she didn't ride Pat's shaft of fortune during rehearsals. Point taken?

Bad News.
Having far too hastily accepted the judging deal I have just been told that this a drag queen beauty competition. Dear God how on earth did I suckered into this homofest? Well I can tell you for a start there certainly will be no shenanigans going on with the judging. It's not that I am opposed to a spot of shirt tail lifting, as far as I am concerned the batty boys do me a favor by leaving more totty for us red blooded sausage bandits. Still there is something buttock clenching about deciding which amateur transvestite is the best looking.

Talking of the Wheel of Fortune have you noticed Vanna's hands? Clearly 25 years of pointless clapping have raised callouses 2 inches thick on her palms. No wonder her engagement was called off. It must be like being fondled by a Navy dockyard welder who forgot to take his gloves off.

Now I am off to stick pencils in my eyes before this line up of deviants sends me blind.

TCB