They've got muscles on their muscles these two, and talk about tell a tale, well, it's a tale that any cat would be proud of.
Then there's the more gentle humour of Alf and his mates down the working men's club. Well, they think it's pretty full of humour, but wait 'til Alf's wife and the other women get stuck in, no woman's place for them.
Here's an extract form Agnes and Bulldog, just to give a bit of flavour --
“Tony Blair's nipples?”, Agnes exploded, half in fun but half in horror.
“Well you bloody well an' asked”, Bulldog retorted.
“For Christ's sake, not Tony Blair's nipples. Anyway, 'ow d'you know they're his nipples?”, Agnes though horrified was still treating this information to her usual forensic analysis.
“Because 'is bloody 'ed's stuck on top of 'em”, Bulldog spat out.
“How the 'ell d'you sleep then?”, Agnes, forever curious, enquired.
“That's the whole point, I don't sleep, it's a nightmare is'nt it, an' it's them bloody nipples that wakes me up, they scream at me. An' if I does'nt wake up, hell it gets worse”.
“Worse”, Agnes could'nt imagine anything much worse.
“Oh hell aye. He starts runnin' towards me does'nt he”.
“Oh my God, Tony Blair, runnin' towards you?”.
“It's not 'im that's frightenin', well, I'm speakin' relative 'ere”.
Agnes was aghast, “Christ Bulldog, y'don't mean y'see that wife of 'is an' all do you?”.
“No, no, no. I mean relative as in .. oh bloody 'ell Agnes, it's them nipples as they comes towards me that's so frightenin', 'orrible, orrible”.
“I can imagine”, Agnes muttered, although she found imagining such visions well nigh impossible.
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A Fateful Aberration by Les Jones available on Kindle £0.99
A frothy concoction of cheap scent, low cleavage and wild and colourful language, a savage intellect, a thoughtful mind schooled in the thoughts of Mary Wollstonecraft. It's a must read.