I can drive a car!
Yes, I passed the test with flying colours – 47 on the Theory part of the test (with all three incorrect answers in vulnerable road users – basically, if you’re a disabled, be afraid, as I’ll be parking in your space!), and 53 out of 75 in my Hazard Perception. I’m so happy, as it’s another thing out of the way.
However, I must be the only person to pass my exam under serious sexual rage.
Let me explain.
Readers of my twitter feed will have heard of the first incident on the Colwyn Bay platform, an averagely attractive girl with rather voluptuous breasts trying desperately to escape from her top like Archibald Ives in The Great Escape. She was nice, but as I boarded the train I immediately fell in love with the girl who was sat opposite me.
She was gorgeous, a girl next door esque gorgeous, and I swear she did all the things that are on the “Checklist of things girls do if they find you attractive” – excentuate your breasts, play with your hair, lean forward, that sort of thing. She was the kind of gorgeous you see only once every two months or so, when you’re single and you begin to question that because you don’t fancy any woman in Colwyn Bay, that you are a little strange, then someone like that walks in and you think “Yep, no chance of me being gay!”. The kind of girl that you stare at her face because, although she has cracking breasts with a cheeky cleavage, her face is so much better.
The kind of girl who, when getting of the train in Bangor, immediately runs and hugs her weedy little boyfriend.
Seriously love, if you are reading this, you can do so much better! He probably lies on the A55 the first sign of war, and probably doesn’t work. Seriously, dump the afro haired fool, join Shagablogger, and get my number.