I'm Bringing Sexy Back

Dear Frankie

I'm going to layer this blog like a Mary Berry Cake, or probably more like a Findus Lasagne.

First layer. Your enjoyment of your relationship. To most, this is a good thing. A wee gift from The Gods. A big 'hurrah' for you. A lucky man.

I know that that is not how you roll. Most of the time. I have learned that you may be searching for the self-destruct button.

You must not do this.

You must instead go back and re-read some of your blogs. Think about the negatives of not feeling this way. Also, don't read about couples on Facebook. We all know they are bastards. That Valentine's stuff gives me the dry boak.  What a waste of money and time. And mostly it's from people who can only function when told to, or show love through a shit teddy, cheap chocolate and a crappy card.  When the fuck did they gig to a packed house in town, or run a marathon? They don't do, that's why they pepper Facebook with that stuff.

Enjoy it all.  A fucking bus might mow you down tomorrow or some other clichéd death.  I am very, very happy for you.

Probably best to keep wanking though or we may lose our fan.

Which leads me nicely unto layer two.

Sexy.

I have been told that I am the fall guy to your dirty stuff on the blog, so I am going to sex this puppy up.  Here goes.

Ooohhh, that boiler is leaking. Dirty git. Better get a plumber out, eh?  Yeah, big old plumber. With tools.  Ohhh. When's he coming? Get it? Coming. Cumming. See what I did there.  What do you mean he's cancelled? But I swapped stuff at work to get back early and picked up the kids for this. I can't believe this.

Oh wait.  Spoiled that slightly.  Will try again.

Ooooohhh,  that's right, oooh yeah, oh hang on, my bingo wing is trapped, move, fucking move, ahhhh, ok, I'm fine, ooh right, so, hang on, that's the baby crying, get up, no its your turn...

Bollocks.

Layer three.

I can't write sexy.

I like 'sexy' and I am not a prude. Rude stuff makes me laugh, I am unshockable.

But dear reader I am unable to put it down on paper.  I guess it's a part of my life I like to keep private, even though I can voyeur with the best of them.  Everything else about me is laid bare, in my job, on here, in counselling, in my limited stand-up stuff.

But you must be brave and soldier on.  Sex it up for me.  Except I know that it ain't sexing up. It's actually you.  And that's what makes you so darn fab.

Dobbers. x