Wherever his feet tread, his love will spread, like the cheeks of a willing maiden

Oh, lovely fun in Smokey today... once we, and the rest of the party actually got there! Because this is Britain, huge chunks of our public transport system had to be closed down today, leaving Flo to travel from Margate to Faversham by bloody bus and everybody else to try to get to Covent Garden without the Victoria line. We had to squish like sardines onto the district & circle tube, then change to Northern, then change again at Leicester square. It was hot. And cramped. And stressy. Nobody ever seems to want to let people off the train before they get on, or move down the carriage once they're on, leaving everyone needlessly squished at the door. Bah. I am blaming Boris for all of this, and for the fact that London has made my face and hair really greasy today. Evidently, his oily Tory slime is oozing rampantly through the streets of our Captial, infecting all and sundry with its grease.

Still, a good time was indeed had in the pub talking about this, that, the other and what uses we might have for a 1,000,000 times life size model vagina (roof to the Wembley stadium, in case you were wondering) and Vi had a fun time at home with her aunt and uncle. Everyone's a winner!

More Next Generama... ( three... this one's a two-parter! )