Thursday, 17 May 2012

Bad times for Tits

Tits McGee found herself a nice (but apparently rather dim) young chap at the pub the other day.
Filled with hope that a strapping young lad with strong arms and a good face would be a dating potential, she was fairly excited when he sent her an initial follow up text. Oh, the disappointment that lay ahead:

Tim Nice-But-Dim: Hey how are you?
Tits: Fine thanks. Am having a very exciting night in, cleaning the oven.
Tim: Do you want to come for a drink if you can drag yourself away from the oven?
Tits: (bearing in mind that it is currently 8:45 pm) Er well I have oven cleaner in my hair and shite from the oven all over my arms, so not feeling too fresh. Why, where are you like? (Please be aware , Tits McGee is northern…)
Tim: What do you mean?
Tits:  Like, where are you? Are you out?
Tim: In Vauxhall chilling out, watching Magnum Force.
Tits: Oh a classic! I forgot to ask, is that where you live?
Tim: Yes.

Riiiiiiiiight. Might be time to delete that number methinks McGee!

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