The third instalment in the occasional series documenting my perceived, hopeful and, to be brutally fucking honest, last ditch attempt at finding love, companionship, conversation and a shag.
You'll remember (or maybe not) that my application for "Subtle Connections" had been accepted and I had sent away my application.
Well I am obliged to inform you that I have had success.
Of sorts.
Last Tuesday I received a text from an unknown number instructing me to be 'By the Church' at seven o'clock that evening and to have a copy of Tractor and Machinery Magazine rolled up under my left arm.
Well there are two churches in the village I live in, so I thought "Christ they are sending me a right fucking loop-de-loo here", but curiosity got the better of me.
BIG MISTAKE
As I approached the first church, I could see her at the second.
I guessed immediately that her firts name was Janet, her surname would be Planet and her middle name, The.
The fat trollope blocked out the friggin sun more than the solar eclipse we had in the nineties and I could see flowers wilting in her shadow. Hedgehogs were going into hibernation, even though it was July.
She must have had eyes of a bastard hawk too, because before I could turn and flee, she spotted the rolled up copy of Tractor and Machinery Magazine that I was trying to hide up my rectum.
As she started to wobble towards me, showing her blacked teeth as she contorted her face into a gruesome grimace of a smile, I could feel the earth shake.
I have to go and see my therapist now, but will write more later, depending on how the hypnotherapy goes.......
